


Double Time

by Elwyn (Iltazyara)



Series: Double Time Extras [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Do-Over, F/M, Love Potion/Spell, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Order of the Phoenix Bashing (Harry Potter), Panic Attacks, Past Brainwashing, Past Mind Control, Past Rape/Non-con, Time Travel, Traumatised Hermione, Weasley Family Bashing (Harry Potter), Why Can't I Put Hermione In The Character List Twice, grey hermione
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-04-12 06:22:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 129,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19126381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iltazyara/pseuds/Elwyn
Summary: Hermione had just kissed Harry on the cheek and watched him leave with the Dursleys when she learnt that Time Travel doesn’t always work out as planned. Sometimes, things double up. And really, how the hell is anyone supposed to account for that?





	1. Ch. I - Hermione gets Kidnapped

**Author's Note:**

> The beginnings of Double Time! Not all my story names will be puns, I promise. 
> 
> This story includes extreme Molly bashing, strong bashing of Dumbledore, Snape, Ron, Ginny, Weasleys in general, the Order of the Phoenix, and possibly others. If you are a fan of any of said characters, don’t go whining to me about it - I’ve warned you now, I don’t go to stories with concepts I don’t like clearly marked and bitch about them, and neither should you. As a note, clearly marked is the sticking point there - if something I put in upsets you and I haven’t stuck a warning on it, bitch away, improperly tagged works have given me anxiety attacks before, so I’ll try to rectify it as soon as I can.
> 
> This story will include references to, but never depictions of, slavery and rape. It also includes mental manipulation, somewhat graphic violence, a suicidal character and deaths of major characters. If any of these disturb you, you are hereby warned. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Did we ever learn the names of Hermione’s parents? If not, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edit: 05/10/19 rewritten to be more up to date with my current style of writing and fixed most of the errors. No content changes.
> 
> Disclaimer: Did we ever learn the names of Hermione’s parents? If not, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.

**30th of June, 1994, King's Cross, London**

Hermione had just something she thought she would never get the courage to do—kiss her four-year-long crush on the cheek. It wasn't much but it was something.

The rumours she had been dating Victor Krum this year had been terrible; he had asked her to the ball so that he didn't have to go with a simpering fangirl—and all that ended up happening was that she got put under a lake and targeted by all the simpering fangirls. He'd been a perfect gentleman, spending time with her. But wasn't anything more than a friend, despite what everyone else was saying.

Even worse, it made her crush think she was interested in other people; she can only hope she has just changed his mind. Sadly, there wasn’t much hope of that, he wasn’t as dense as Ron but that didn’t make him quick on the uptake. But one had to give the boy who jumped atop a troll for them a little leeway. More so when he also killed a _Basilisk_ that petrified her and fought off a hundred or more soul-sucking demons that were going to… eat her soul.

He was ever the hero, even if he didn’t want to be recognised as one. Beating a dragon—even if it wasn’t in a _fight_ —and surviving a dark lord’s murder plot. Even if he had been forced into the last two they had happened and he had survived. Even when so few believed the dark lord was back she knew he was. Harry had said so, and she would believe him. Always.

So, while Hermione walked towards her mum—who was waiting for her with a smile on her face—she was contemplating how to help Harry with his latest predicament. He needed comfort; he'd so recently seen someone die, been tortured, and used in a dark ritual. He needed help and training to be better prepared for the next time something went wrong. She wished she could help him over the summer, but his relatives—because they don't deserve to be called _family_ —wouldn't ever let her in their house.

And she knew he couldn't come to her. Dumbledore had told her it wasn't safe, and really, it almost certainly wasn't. Her house was muggle, unwarded, unprotected. If you-know-who attacked her home she couldn't put up much of a fight and neither could her parents.

"So, that's the boy you like, is it? Think he got the message?" The teasing voice of her mum startled out of Hermione out of her thoughts just in time to see the hug coming. Harry was one of the few who knows what Hermione's hugs are like; crushing, emotion-filled hugs meant to show how much she cares, and she got them from her mum.

As much as it felt right, it was a little off somehow.

"Mum!" Her indignant cry was met with light chuckles as she was released. "Where's Dad?"

"He's busy—emergency at the clinic. Couldn't find any parking so we're going to have to walk a bit." Hermione nodded at that. Finding parking anywhere near King's Cross is a nightmare; it could take hours if they don't arrive early enough.

While Hermione trailed after her mother she went back to her ruminations. Her thoughts flickered between Harry, how to fight back against Voldemort, and the uses of the reporter in her pocket. The one that she’d had in her literal pocket rather than bribed.

One could almost feel pity for Rita. Almost.

Distracted she didn’t pay much attention to where she was going beyond following her mum. When she was grabbed by her and pulled into an alleyway she tried to shriek in alarm—only to find her mother's hand covering her mouth and pressing her tightly to her mother's chest.

Suddenly the world was a straw and she was being pulled through it. As the world popped back into existence with an audible _Crack_ she tried to take a deep breath—

Only for it to happen again. And again. And again.

After what felt like an eternity, and left her heaving onto the ground, the world stopped. It was a testament to her disorientation that it took a few moments to realise she had been kidnapped. She struggled to get upright, pulled out her wand and turned to face her kidnapper—her mum—no, someone disguised as her Mum.

"Hello, Hermione." The witch disguised as her mum was pointing her wand—a very familiar Vinewood wand—at her "My name is... well, let's go with Mia for now. Not my name, but it's not as if I deserve one I like considering what happened." The sad smile on her mother's—kidnapper's—face was confusing, as was her relaxed posture.

Confused by her kidnapper or not, however, Hermione was still terrified. She was in a forest clearing, alone with a witch who was older and more powerful than she was. "What are you going to d-do to me?"

"Ah, well. Save you—and Harry, I hope. At the very least I'll try."

"How is kidnapping me saving me? What do you want? Where are we?" Falling back on old habits, Hermione pushed her nervousness aside with her curiosity and started blurting out questions. "Why does your wand look like mine? And what on earth do you mean by saving Harry?"

"I mean, saving you, and Harry, from Dumbledore and Molly's manipulations. But first I have to hope this works, the temporal mechanics are rather convoluted and technically impossible. Not that it has stopped me so far." Wands still raised, facing each other down, Hermione was unsteady and could still taste bile in her mouth. As it was, she couldn't help but feel more intimidated by the strange witch, and the next words only made her feel even more terrified.

"I, Hermione Jane Granger-Potter, adopted heir of the House of Potter by blood and ritual, Regent of House Potter, do claim the life debt owed to the House of Potter by Hermione Jane Granger, created on the thirty first of October, nineteen-ninety-one."

A brief flash of light flared from both their wands, and a sort of magical weight settled over Hermione from those words. An even greater mental weight settled over her, one of fear—she knew about life debts, of course she did, as soon as she had been rescued from the troll she had read up about them.

She owed one to Harry for saving her from the Troll, and again from when they time travelled and his Patronus had driven away the Dementors by the lake.

But life debts didn't become real unless claimed, and Harry never would, so she had never brought it up. But here she was, staring at someone—some stranger who had claimed her debt. Her arm dropped on its own and she started crying, there was no way she could help Harry now. Whoever this was owned her until the debt was fulfilled.

She started crying;  she had become a liability and she was going to be turned against Harry. It was the most obvious thing. Her best friend would hate her for betraying him.

Her worries and tears grew greater with each passing moment until the polyjuice faded on her captor in front of her eyes and she fell into a stunned silence.

Her captor hadn’t drunk anything, nor taken a different dose of polyjuice, yet their features warped and shifted into something surprising. Not to that of some stranger, but her own. She was staring herself in the face, a second Hermione, one who had started crying herself.

"I, Hermione Jane Granger-Potter, call in full the life-debt owed to the House of Potter by Hermione Jane Granger, to fulfil the debt she shall step forward and provide a hug. So mote it be." 

The woman had told Hermione to call her Mia, but after hearing the ritual wording for the second time it clicked that she hadn’t said that was her _name._ She had said she was Hermione Jane. She was _herself._ A duplicate—a doppelganger.

Hermione's movements were sluggish due to shock as she the compulsion to move forward gripped her. Stepping up to the stranger—her duplicate—she hugged them. One which as it was returned made clear why her mother’s hug had felt wrong before.

It was her own hug, imperfect at delivering that comfort she so strived to provide, but full of sincerity and emotion regardless. 

Even though she quickly felt the magical compulsion fade, she clung on anyway, unsure of what was happening. She hadn't been controlled, her kidnapper was herself, her looming life-debt was gone, and she was crying while being held in her own arms. 

Considering less than an hour prior she had kissed her dearest crush, it was turning out to be quite the day for highly-strung emotions.

A few minutes passed as they held onto each other, finding comfort in the familiar yet strange embrace. "Come on, up, we can sit and talk in the tent." The duplicate said, and moments later Hermione found herself pulled to her feet and dragged towards an empty clearing—where suddenly a tent popped into existence. As she entered it became clear was a magically expanded one, like the one the Weasley’s had used at the World Cup.

"This is where we'll be staying for a while; I need to teach you the basics at least, and then you need to decide what you are going to do. I won't force you, it wouldn't be fair, but right now it's not safe." Her voice continued in a whisper, "Not safe at all. Even with the debt gone."

"What happened to mum, dad?" Her confusion was keeping her from reacting excessively; that and the small bit of trust built from the life-debt being cleared by a simple hug. If she was going to be used that action made no sense at all.

"They're fine; in France at the moment as practise's sale finalises. They'll be in Australia before the end of Summer, safe."

"What? Why!" Hermione shouted, but quickly found herself silenced and pushed into a chair with a mug of hot chocolate poured and set in front of her as she was unable to continue demanding answers.

"Because... because six days from now they would be dead, you would be with the Weasley's, and Molly Weasley would be your new guardian." 

Hermione’s eyes widened in shock. Her parents, dead? There was no way she would trust divination for something like—her duplicate had said ‘ _Technically impossible temporal mechanics’_. The fact she _had_ a duplicate in the first place! She travelled through time?! She tried to yell, to demand to know how the Mia—her duplicate—had done it and why, but the silencing spell held strong.

Either unaware of or ignoring Hermione's revelation and attempts to speak, her doppelganger continued.  "Which she would then use to claim our inheritance as Dagworth-Granger's descendant, and with a little trickery twist our life-debt into being owed to the _Mouth_ \- sorry, _Ronald."_ The venom in Mia's voice was palpable as she mentioned Hermione's second friend. To the point where Hermione flinched back in response, abruptly ceasing her attempts to interrupt.

"We would even be forced to be nice to Dad's murderer. _Dear_ _Professor_ _Snape_ used the attack on us to show his loyalty to his dark-lord. Hard to say if it was his own initiative or not, or if he was even willing, I never got the chance to question him."

With a flick of her wand Mia removed the silencing spell on Hermione, who apprehensively started speaking again, "I don't—why? Mum, dad, dead? And no one would believe me about Professor Snape?"

"No, they'd believe you—after all Snape would admit it himself. But, ' _For the Greater Good, Professor Snape's cover must be maintained, even if it means sacrifices'."_ Mia's voice was caustic, and she looked ill as she finished speaking. "I _hate_ the _greater good_ and _everything_ it stands for.

"And, after all, just like _Mother Molly_ always says: ' _They're just Muggles'_ " 

Hermione found everything Mia had said difficult to believe. Professor Dumbledore was a great wizard and knew what he was doing, and Mrs Weasley would… Mrs Weasley had said that something much like that to her. Said that her parents, being Muggles, couldn't have raised her properly. That Hermione should listen to her over her own parents because Muggles would never understand a witch.

Because _they were just muggles._ Hermione shivered at the thought, remembering how easily Mrs Weasley had turned against her after her fight with Ron and just how _believable_ it made Mia’s story. She didn’t want it to be true; Ron surely couldn’t be involved in something so cruel… not intentionally.

She reached out for her mug of hot chocolate, only to find herself receiving a stinging hex to her hand, "Ow! Hey!"

"Stupid, stupid, stupid. This is how I got caught the first time; I'm still a stranger, dangerous, not trustworthy, and you would drink something you didn't see prepared? Do you want to be potioned into being a pet for a redheaded pig?" Mia's spat out bitterly, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel it was directed at both of them.

"Are you saying that it's potioned? Why would you tell me if it—"

"It's not, but the food at... At… Ugh, Fidelius charms. At Headquarters, is. Loyalty, Love, Will Suppressants, basically everything necessary to make you fall in love with the _Mouth._ " She grimaced and looked down. "Just like what happened to me."

"It took months before I started _desiring_ the pig, but I stopped loving Harry before he arrived; stopped caring Mum and Dad were dead because _Mother Molly_ was there to fill in the gap. We were smart, smarter than Dumbledore, so..." She choked up as her eyes started watering, "so she wanted us as a breeding _sow_ for her _pig_. Dumbledore just wanted us away from Harry, distant, and Molly's plan was convenient. He claimed he didn’t know, but he must have. I don't think he hated us. We were just in the way."

"I... I don't believe you. I, no, I can't. Even if you have time-travelled, they wouldn't. Ron wouldn't; he's my friend, Harry's friend..."

"I didn't even say I had... but I must have implied it," Mia muttered while giving Hermione a little smile. "And yet, Molly did tell you that story about brewing the potions; oh, Arthur's not under them, now. He was at the start, but he does love her, and his children. It's why she thinks it's acceptable; 'fake it until it becomes real'. Only, after nine years, it never became real. Not for us, not for Harry." Mia shook her head.

"That was just a little story! It doesn't mean that she's going to use love potions on me, this is ridiculous!"

"Considering you have a low dose loyalty potion in your system keyed to Ronald and the Headmaster, have done for some time, I don't think you can say that. Entirely incidental mind; it's a consequence of sitting near Harry at mealtimes. I don't think that Dumbledore even knows Molly doubled up the potion so it works for her son as well as him."

Hermione found the idea of a loyalty potion keyed to Ronald believable, if only just. She did forgive him very easily every time he was cruel to her. But the headmaster... _He's Dumbledore._ She just can't imagine anyone she knows doing it, but the way both she and Harry forgive him for everything had always been strange. "I still can't believe they would do it. They're not evil."

"Evil, no. Manipulative and unethical, yes. We're just Muggleborn, we don't matter; children of animals, they're just doing their duty _educating_ the _savages_. Don't you remember how Arthur treats Mum and Dad?"

"... Like zoo animals."

"Exactly. It's much like the gentlemen explorers who travelled the world. Not exactly evil, some maybe not even cruel, but they thought themselves better, _superior._ Racist, classist, bigots."

They both remain sat in silence for a while, Mia quietly sipping away at her hot chocolate as Hermione worked through everything she had been told a second time.

"What's the charm to detect contaminated drinks?"

Mia didn't answer, and instead got up and pulled a book off of a shelf and passed it to Hermione. She quickly scanned through it while occasionally glancing at her duplicate.

"I'm underage."

"The wards on the tent block detection. It's not even hard to do. According to the ministry I'm underage too; although my wand isn't, which is what matters." Mia sounded amused; as if she found the ministries efforts to track underage magic funny.

Hermione took a minute to practice and then cast a spell on her drink, then a different one on a hair she plucked from her head. The first didn't give a result, but there was a faint light blue glow on the hair.

"You miscast the first one, needs a tighter spiral. You should also never rely on a single cast; false negatives can happen."

Repeating the spells twice more and receiving a nod Hermione finally took a sip of her hot chocolate. She grimaced as it mixed with the taste of vomit in her mouth, but she ignored it and drank more to wash the taste away. "Alright. I've been potioned, I believe that. But I'm giving them the benefit of the doubt for now."

"Good enough; now six days for you to get the charms down, basic Occlumency and to make a decision."

"What decision?"

"Go to Australia with Mum and Dad to keep you safe and let me take your place to keep Harry safe; or go to headquarters with me, and we come up with some kind of story for why there are suddenly two of us. Or you could betray me, not like I can stop you."

Hermione stares at Mia with a baffled look on her face, "You're a time traveller, why don't you already have a plan?"

"I was supposed to merge into you, I hardly expected to come back in my own body, I've spent the last week rather frantically preparing for _this_ because all my plans had to be adjusted to account for you." Mia sighed. "And, at the end of it, I can't help being sad; even if I succeed in every way possible, one of us is almost certain to get heartbroken." She turned away to stare at the ground. "Me, preferably, I don't deserve him. Not after what... happened."

Hermione didn't respond as she was feeling somewhat overwhelmed and decided to settle in to study the book she had been given instead of asking more questions. When she finished with the book on detection charms Mia placed a set of three books on _Occlumency_ on the table, which Hermione quickly dove into. Neither spoke until Mia said she was going to bed, and Hermione only gave a short acknowledgement.

In her mind there were a few thoughts of betraying her kidnapper, running to Dumbledore and informing him; but an undercurrent of fear kept her in the tent and reading Mia’s books.

Could it all be real? What if Mia wasn’t lying? There had been a lot of events over the last four years that had eroded her trust in authority figures. She wasn’t a twelve-year-old girl who trusted adults implicitly anymore. Not after they failed to do anything helpful, or even did the exact opposite, so many times.

Hermione wrapped herself up tightly in the unfamiliar blankets, trying desperately to ignore the growing fear that the world was far crueller than she had ever believed possible.

When she finally succumbed to sleep it was only nightmares of potions and manipulative headmasters that greeted her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. This is the same as the chapter in my Plotbunny collection. It has, however, had several details changed and gone through several editing passes since posting it there. I wouldn't say reading it again is necessary, but I can hardly complain if you do.


	2. Ch. II - Hermione gets an Explanation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Tyrannic_Puppy for providing comments and beta work on this chapter. For those of you who enjoy Harmony, or more fluffy and happy stories, check out his works The Boy Who Lived… Is Over There, and Elfish Welfare, they are both wonderful expressions of childhood friendship and fluffy happiness.
> 
> Edit: 10/10/19 rewritten to be more up to date with my current style of writing and fixed most of the errors. Minor content edits to fix coherency of the Future Hermione memory situation. It was a mess.  
> Actually updated: 31/03/20 wow that's a delay.
> 
> Disclaimer: Did Rowling heavily emphasise Hermione kissing Harry on the cheek at the end of book four, only for it to be forgotten and ignored forever more? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.

**1st of July, 1995, A Place to Grow Old, the Forest of Dean**

Hermione awoke to the sound of a kettle boiling over. She hadn't slept much or at all well—Cedric's death, Harry's morose state at King’s Cross, her being kidnapped by a time-lost future self, and that niggling _urge_ to run to the Headmaster she now found so very suspicious had kept her awake when she stirred in the night. Altogether it felt like a miracle she had slept at all.

There had been nightclothes prepared for her last night, and now there were more clothes laid out for her. All her own clothes—things she had left at home but enlarged to fit the growth she had had since leaving on the express ten months ago. She almost felt the _other_ had been taking liberties. Frowning blearily it dawned on Hermione that if her doppelganger was her from the future, everything she owned was technically both of theirs?

Deciding to put aside the difficulties of defining ownership when presented with temporal anomalies, she put the clothes on and headed out of the bedroom into the main area of the tent where she spotted Mia cooking away while muttering angrily. 

When Mia noticed Hermione entering the room she turned and plastered a smile on her face. "You sleep well?" Hermione could see bags under the other girl's eyes, showing that it wasn't just her that had trouble sleeping.

Hermione responded with a shake of her head. "No," then went over to pick up the Occlumency book she had left on the table the previous night and got to studying to keep herself distracted from the insanity of her situation. She briefly considered fleeing again, but since she didn’t even know where she was _and_ she was exhausted the prospects of escape were dismal.

As Mia finished cooking and set out two plates of food Hermione put the book to the side so she could read it while eating. But remembering last night she paused, pulled out her wand and cast the detection charm—receiving a smile from Mia in response.

Hermione suppressed a shiver of unease at seeing her own face smiling back at her.  It was unsettling, and quickly gave her a new appreciation for why Polyjuice was restricted. Besides the ability to frame someone, or do what Professor— _Barty Crouch Junior_ did.

Focusing on the results of the charm to avoid looking at Mia for the moment Hermione saw the charm come up negative on all three casts. More than hungry after skipping dinner the previous night, she dug in. It was about what she would expect from her own cooking—edible, by technicality, but little else.

“Do I really never get any better at cooking?” She muttered as she ate, her hunger pushing her to finish the decidedly unappealing food in front of her. When she finished Hermione decided it was time to begin questioning her counterpart. “I’ve been thinking,” Mia smiled knowingly, “I can, after the last four years, understand why the headmaster is suspicious.” It had taken Hermione a frustrating amount of effort to analyse the events of the last four years, but when she had, her conclusions hadn’t shown Professor Dumbledore in a good light at all. “He is overly involved in everything, yet doesn’t… _do_ anything. Especially with Harry. But, I want to hear your argument, your reasoning. Tell me why I should believe you and not trust the teachers, the Weasleys—my friends.”

Mia didn’t respond immediately, taking the time to think it over. Eventually, she met Hermione's gaze evenly. "There's no point."

"So, I shouldn't distrust them? If there's no point explaining then-"

"NO!" Hermione jumped back in surprise from the force of Mia's interruption. "No, there is no point in me explaining. You want to believe in them, they're _friends_ , your friends, were my friends. They're a surrogate family, people you respect and like. Distrusting them hurts, I know that, I really do. I could talk and talk, give detailed lists of events, contradictions, list every action they've taken that was suspect, but what would it matter?

"In the end, you want to believe them more than me—I'm teaching you to stay safe, not to hate them. Even if I'm wrong somehow, potions, compulsions, mind-readers all still exist, so there is still plenty of reason to learn. But when it comes to taking a side? I'm not asking you to, not on my word. You know the events of the last four years just as well as I do, better in the case of the last six months."

Hermione scrunched up her face in confusion. How could she know the last sixth months better than her counterpart? Maybe she meant she didn’t remember it as well because it had been so long?

Mia didn't notice Hermione's confusion and continued speaking. "You have to see it for yourself... it took me weeks to start believing it was real, and I had memories, notes, a house filled with every shred of evidence available—and I still didn't want it to be true. Preferred to bury my head and pretend it was a lie for as long as I could." Mia was fidgeting in her seat as she talked, clearly uncomfortable. "I can't make you believe, or at least, I won't. I won't control you, no compulsions, no magic. You make your own decisions."

" _Thank you_ oh so much for saying I get to decide what _I_ do," Hermione responded somewhat distractedly, still puzzled by the confusing nature of Mia's response. "I'll learn. The idea of... _that_ happening to me, to anyone, is horrifying."

"But you don't believe that they're capable of it, I understand. I'm just asking you to not trust implicitly, to _think_ before deciding something, or someone is absolute. That and... to keep me, or rather my time-travel, secret. Because... if they, if the wrong person finds out... it won't be two of us anymore, just one, and the other will be broken and disposed of into a place run by people that make Dumbledore look sane." She paused briefly before muttering, "And that's one of the better possibilities."

"Where? Who would be the worst one to find out? And..." Was it right to keep something like this a secret? Professor Dumbledore, if he knew what was coming could... Hermione shook her head vigorously to clear out her immediate thoughts of defending the headmaster. The headmaster _didn’t_ have a good track record of good decision making. She would have to be blind to have not noticed after the mishandling of the Stone, Basilisk, Sirius… especially the tournament. And yet she hadn’t noticed, had she? She still almost jumped to his defence without thinking. 

Making her decision she took a breath and made her promise. "Yes, I will... I'll wait. I'll wait until September before telling anyone about the time-travel."

Mia nodded her head in gratitude, before looking at Hermione speculatively. "September huh... haven't thought about school in a while, _He_ 'll end up being prefect again—"

"What? Who?" Hermione interjected.

But Mia continued, ignoring the interruption. "—so I'll probably spend time helping you on the duties so that there actually _will_ be two Gryffindor prefects this time around. It'll make a good excuse for any excursions I have to make as well, and I know there will be several." She leaned back and chewed on her lip lightly before she decided to answer Hermione's questions. "Where? The Department of Mysteries—where time-turners are made and stored, they also have these... brains, living depositories of information, a bit like computers... with tentacles. That hate people and try to kill them, or... eat their minds? I don't know. Always wondered if _him_ being attacked by one had any side-effects." She looked down and lightly shook her head before continuing quietly. "Maybe. But he didn't change much all that much, so I doubt it."

"That sounds... disturbing." He, from context, must be Ron. But attacked by… evil brains? Hopefully, Mia was wrong, that Ron was still her friend—that if they could help him he’d be fine. She just couldn’t picture doing anything horrible enough to get the reaction from her that her counterpart had. He was a bit of git sometimes, but he was no Malfoy.

Hermione blinked. If _He_ was Ron, then… Ron was going to be the other prefect?! She had to force him to study! To even think about following the rules! The only person _worse_ she could have as a partner would be Seamus!

As Mia's voice continued to ramble onward, it dawned on Hermione that she was missing important information as she groaned over dealing with Ron as a partner. She pushed the laziest Weasley out of her mind and returned her attention to Mia.

"There's a lot of nasty things in there. It's similar to the stories surrounding American's Area 51, they research anything and everything in there." After a moment's hesitation, Mia added. "Such as Prophecies. That'll be important, later."

"As for who would be worst to know? Riddle, obviously." Seeing the lack of comprehension on Hermione's face Mia clarified who she meant. "Tom Riddle, Harry... he never said, did he. Only told Dumbledore..." She frowned. "Probably was told to keep it quiet too. Tom Marvolo Riddle, son of Thomas Riddle and Merope Gaunt, also known as Voldemort." Hermione shivered at the name. "It's best to call him Tom or Riddle, he used a Taboo—a type of tracking spell—on his name in the future. Harry saying his name got us caught once."

Hermione nodded. It was good to _finally_ understand why everyone was so afraid of a name. "And?" she asked, prompting Mia to continue.

Mia had turned away, staring out of the tent, but at Hermione’s prompting she snapped back. "Right, he's the worst because if he found out he would torture me, and get information that would make the war far, far harder to win." Mia then tilted her head and looked Hermione right in the eye for a moment. "You're thinking the taboo was why people were afraid of his name, right? It's not. We had never heard of him before June '91, but we were scared too within a week of being in Hogwarts. There's some kind of fear compulsion tied to all his 'titles', I don't get why Dumbledore never got rid of it. It's tied to the curse on the DADA position, and it makes everyone who stays in the castle terrified of the name. For life, at that."

"Harry was never scared of the name, the only one other than Dumbledore."

"There's a reason for that, for both of them. It isn't safe to say until I know your Occlumency is competent."

Hermione frowned; she didn't like that response. But couldn’t deny some things might need to be kept from her until she can protect her own mind. 

The fact that wouldn't happen quickly was frustrating, Occlumency at normally took months to learn, but often took far longer. And the book had said that isn't even to the point of mastery—just enough to protect from casual or inexperienced intrusions. She seemed to be progressing quickly, but even if she was a prodigy she wouldn't be _secure_ for weeks, if not months.

"Is there anyone you think is worth telling?"

"Worth? Maybe Sirius. He's loyal, fanatically loyal, to Harry. But he's also not exactly stable, or wasn't. Something may have been done to him like it was with us so that their plans could continue apace. He also owes us a life-debt, I think, for rescuing him from the Dementors last year."

"Right, okay." Feeling somewhat insecure and unsafe, Hermione found herself idly fiddling with her wand and decided to recast the detection charm on herself. She was dismayed to still see the indication for an active mind-influencing potion being in her system. She wished it wasn't real, that this wasn't happening. The saying Ignorance is Bliss came to mind; she wasn't entirely sure if she was happier knowing, even if it made her safer.

She sighed and stared at the results, trying to understand _why._ Why was the headmaster obsessed with Harry? Why was V–vol— _Riddle_ obsessed with Harry? It didn’t make sense. There were more important people, for all that he was famous. He was… he was just Harry.

She glanced up at Mia and saw that she was being stared at. “Don’t you have… things that need doing?”

"I've gotten most everything that needed to be done before it's time for the order to 'collect' me, or us, dealt with already. The next four days are for you, and planning a somewhat believable story for how we... duplicated if you do decide to stay."

So, Mia was sticking around to answer her questions. To be helpful. That was good to know. "What did you mean earlier about 'having less information about the last six months'? It makes sense for everything to be harder for you to remember, as it is further in the past for you—"

Mia began shaking her head, much to Hermione’s puzzlement.

"—but you specifically mentioned the last six months."

Mia got out of her chair and started pacing around the tent. "I... no, I'm, look. I'm an exact copy of you, the same age even—I'm from the future, thirteen years forward, but look exactly the same?" 

Hermione blinked, opened her mouth to respond, but stopped and just looked questioningly at Mia.

"I think you were in shock last night and didn't notice it properly, but I _should_ look older, right?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded her tentative agreement.

"I, or _she_ , the future me, us, did a ritual. It was called _The Regression._ It effectively rewinds a person, mind, body, memory, magic, everything except your _'true'_ age gets reset backwards by three, seven or thirteen years depending on how the ritual is set up. And only the goblins track people by their true age, stops time-turners and similar affecting succession.

"The ritual was done on the winter solstice, the 21st of December, 2007. Rewinding thirteen years, leading to me appearing in a dark house filled with instructions, notes, Pensieve memories, books and a single, rather insane, house-elf, but no idea how I got there or what had happened. As I said before, it took weeks for me to accept it all as real, even with the evidence I had available."

Scowling due to her confusion Hermione asked the simplest, and most difficult, of questions: "But, why?"

"I, no, _she_ was... broken. Nine years of being... raped, controlled, used and sold, all on top of the scars from the war with Riddle and never having a chance to process her grief properly left me... no, her..." Mia paused, searching for the right word. "I don't know how to describe it. There's a process to outright integrate a memory, taking it in and reliving it with all the emotions and thoughts included as if they were just happening. For the ones she left that I was told I should… integrate there was always this undercurrent of self-loathing, grief and hatred." She stopped, fidgeting slightly while she looked anywhere except at Hermione.

"And? What else?" Hermione could tell something is being held back, so she kept her pile of questions in check for a moment.

"I, she, killed people." Mia blurted out.

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond to discovering she became a murderer, or at least a killer, in the future, so she settled for somewhat stunned silence until Mia spoke up again.

"She went through a list. Over the course of three years she found everyone involved, or that she thought was involved, in both her own... situation and Harry's death."

Hermione’s eyes widened in shock. Harry died? Harry? He—he always got in trouble, in danger, but he… he always pulled through. What would she do if he died? Her hands drifted over her heart as she felt the same panic she had when he came back with Cedric, all broken and bloody. She couldn’t even _think_ of what she would do if he died; she couldn’t.

Mia had paused at Hermione’s internal struggle, but as Hermione looked up to stare Mia in the eye she finished what she was saying. "And killed them. Some were not... pleasant to watch happen."

"Like Ron's?" The slight flinch at Ron's name was odd to see, especially in how it was a delayed response rather than immediate.

"No, she didn't kill Ron. Luna did; though you don't know Luna yet, she ends up being... a friend. We weren't a good friend to her, but she was to us—and she was a very good friend for Harry." Mia turned back around to fix Hermione in place with a stare. "We will be nice to her—you'll understand when we meet her, she's not... she's odd, different. But while a lot of what she says is nonsense, a fair amount of it is real as well."

"Okay, be nice to Luna, Ron's murderer, got it," Hermione said sarcastically and receiving a glare from Mia in return which she ignored. "Now, you managed to apparate me, have..." she waved a hand at the tent, "all this, Occlumency, and whatever else, but you should be me—maybe even behind me because you had to self-study—not capable of things I'm not capable of, or that I wouldn't be taught at this age. How?" After a moment's pause, not giving Mia a chance to respond Hermione started up again, "And what _do_ you know about the last six months? We can't act too differently from each other, or you'll get discovered after all. Is it possible for you to give me memories to integrate? What happens if you integrate someone learning something? What have you been doing since you got here? When did you get here? What about—"

Mia had started giggling as the barrage of questions began, but managed to reign it in and interrupt before Hermione truly got going, "Integrating someone learning something answers your first question—the process gives you a massive headache and knocks you out for longer than the memories themselves last. Learning Apparition that way took three days and all the rest of my rather specialised skills left me in bed for three weeks. 

“So yes, you _could_ learn that way, but we don't have time. There's also the fact making memories you can do that with takes a special tool—one that had to be stolen—and it... I'm paranoid, no longer naive or innocent, easily startled and twitchy with my wand." She smiled sadly. "If you did the same as I did, you'd lose a lot of things worth keeping. I'm not as bad as I would have been without the ritual, but that doesn't mean I'm entirely healthy. Separating my feelings as a teenage girl from those of an older woman has been... challenging."

"So there are drawbacks, but wouldn't it be worth it for some skills?" Hermione definitely wanted to know how to apparate. Teleporting had to be one of the most useful, practical, and convenient bits of magic possible. She wouldn’t have her license, however, and no matter how _amazing_ being able to apparate would be, it wouldn’t be worth breaking the law.

She glanced over at Mia. Not worth it for herself, anyway. It might be different if she needed it to help Harry, or if Mia’s story was true. 

"Maybe. That's something for later, not now. You can't learn Occlumency that way, or the muscle memory and habits for detection charms either. So it's not too useful at the moment. And we don’t have the equipment anyway."

"Alright. Can you tell me when you arrived, and what you've been up to since then at least?"

"Yes, that's fine. Well, it was on the Solstice, the best time for major rituals and travelling back in time is no exception. I arrived here and soon set about going to Gringotts to sort out supplies and necessities..."

**21st of June, 1995, A Place to Grow Old, the Forest of Dean**

Getting spat out of a temporal disturbance like Harry out of a Floo was not entirely how Hermione had pictured her return to the past. That she arrived butt-naked barring a hairband, a pair of socks, a single notebook—more of a diary, if she was honest—the broken time-turner necklace Harry had gifted her for her 19th birthday, and her wand had also not been part of the picture.

She hadn't expected to come out with anything. The whole plan was to take over her past self and do things _right_. Not arrive in the same place she had departed from, lacking any of the supplies she needed to get things done quickly, or a way to integrate herself cleanly into society. At least it was warm and she had arrived somewhere she recognised.

Some of the most precious memories that her older self had left behind were those from this spot. It had been important to her emotionally, which was why she had made a ritual circle here, in the middle of the Forest of Dean. She had watched, and for a few of them _felt_ , what it was like to be alone with Harry. Confused, twisted, and muddled as she had been before… resetting herself, she had still managed to express her feelings to him. He just hadn't understood, and then _He_ had returned too soon.

It was clear from the confusion in the memories she hadn't understood what was wrong. Why she had to listen and obey the traitorous git. Looking back on it now, with what she had learned, it made her sick. She couldn't even think about him without feeling ill. Hopefully, she would get used to it; there was no way she would be able to avoid him completely if she was to help Harry.

“Huh,” As she looked over her things it became clear why she had kept _these_ items and nothing else. They were sentimental, both for her older self, and her… reset self. The notebook was her diary from her first through fourth years. The socks were a gift Kreacher gave her after she burnt Malfoy Manor down—avenging Dobby, he had said. The time-turner necklace was the last gift Harry had given to her before she had been forced to stop talking to him. And the hairband…

"Oh, mum…" Hermione rubbed at her eyes as she began to cry. The hairband was the last thing she'd had of her mother. She had gone for a jog that morning because she couldn't sleep and borrowed it. She'd come back to the sound of her parents' screams and the mocking laughter of the Death Eaters as they tortured them to death.

It hadn't happened. Not yet, not now. It wasn't even her memory. But that didn't make how it felt any less real. The sounds any less piercing. Snape's face any less _hateful_ as he spilt her father’s entrails onto the floor.

The line between her and who she was before the _Regression_ was blurry. Was she twenty-eight? Was she fifteen? Was she even Hermione Granger if she was here, in the woods, and not at Hogwarts with Harry? She shook her head and tugged gently on the hairband tying her ponytail, setting her wild hair loose.

It didn’t matter. She had things she needed to do.

She had to get her parents out; send them away, to France. Further, even. The continent wasn’t safe either if anyone caught wind of what she was doing. Australia, maybe. Or New Zealand. 

Hermione laughed bitterly; she would use the lie that _He_ had forced her to parrot to Harry about her parents to keep them safe for real. She already knew the right place to go to get believable fake bodies made, dummies to trick the Death Eaters. Knockturn Alley wasn’t a pleasant place, but it was useful.

“Stick with the plan… get them out. France is too close, far too close… New Zealand and _say_ Australia. They’ll be safer that way.” She didn’t even register that she was speaking out loud as she tried to steady her breathing. “Stick with the plan…”

Suddenly she screamed out in frustration. “The plan. What plan? I never planned for this!” There were two of her. A second self running around—a second Hermione. Another person she would have to keep safe, bring in on her plans, educate in keeping her mind and body free from undue influence.

All while keeping _Molly_ from doing it to her, stopping the rest of the Weasleys getting ideas—she couldn’t trust _any_ of them—and even worse, replacing Dumbledore’s half-baked plan to beat Tom Riddle with one that involved less suicide by Dark-Lord for Harry.

Perhaps even more challenging, she needed to keep Harry from going insane from the isolation this summer and the pressure of the year. He could be such a moody brat sometimes, but she loved him anyway. Just thinking of Harry had her smiling and grasping the time-turner hanging from her neck.

However, in only a few moments the smile faded. There two of her; two Hermiones. Two Hermiones and only one Harry.

She shook her head, trying to dislodge that unhelpful thought. Harry wasn’t hers to claim, if he wanted her she was his. But if he wanted the real Hermione, the one not twisted by memories of the future given to her by a madwoman that she could tell apart from herself, she was there for him too.

At least she knew that he would be happy with her. Whether it was herself… or her other self. The will had made that much clear, just as it had made everything she was doing possible. Even after dying he had continued helping her. And not just through usage of the Resurrection Stone.

All they would have to do is get it into his head she didn’t like any of the Weasleys. And wait. 

She took another deep breath. “Focus, Granger. Gringotts, need to deal with Gringotts first.” She couldn’t get sidetracked. If she wasn’t at Hogwarts, she would have to catch… herself when she left King’s Cross Station. She only had a little over a week. No time for delays.

Wandering around the clearing, Hermione collected some leaves from the trees and piled them together, then transfigured them into a simple sundress. Enough to get into Gringotts to…

“I can’t even afford the inheritance test!” Stomping her foot she winced, remembering her lack of footwear too late to stop. She grabbed a branch and made a pair of sandals, uncomfortable, but far better than wandering around barefoot.

“Will the Potter claim even carry over?” she muttered, “I got it before, in the future, but…” Harry had to have made his will, it was after the first task, so she _was_ registered as his heir. But would that be enough, would they be able to tell she had gone through the ritual in the future?

Even if it didn’t carry over, she would have the Dagworth-Granger inheritance. She would just need to get a hundred pounds or so to exchange and pay for the test. Hopefully, she would be able to take Regency too, but she still needed to go to Gringotts anyway.

Looking herself over she hardly felt presentable, but it would have to do. 

“I’m going to have to steal some notes, aren’t I.” She frowned and spun her wand idly, fidgeting as she thought it over. “No, don’t like it. Not at all.” She bit her lip and scowled, contemplating the necessity of the theft versus her already tattered moral code. “Needs must, now where to go, who to steal from…” She snorted. “Oh, who am I kidding. The Dursleys deserve it if anyone does; here I come.”

With a _Crack_ Hermione vanished from the clearing.

–oOoOo–

Half an hour later Hermione appeared in the ladies toilets of Leicester Square' Tube Station, holding a wallet filled with just over two-hundred pounds.

"That was both surprisingly easy, and surprising in general." Hermione didn’t pay any heed to the fact she was talking to herself and continued muttering. "Dudley running drugs... well, easy to take and not something he's likely to report. Good for me, even if it's..."

She blinked, finally recognising what she was doing. "... dirty money." She scowled; her sessions with Andy were supposed to have helped with that. But clearly, months of isolation with just Kreacher for company weren't going to be fixed so easily, or at least, not so quickly.

Slapping her cheeks she forced herself back to focus on what she needed to do. It didn’t take long to apply enough glamour charms to look a little older than fifteen more like her mother than herself. Enough, she hoped, to not be recognised. Not that many would in Diagon Alley; she was no Harry Potter.

On her way through the Leaky Cauldron she spotted a patron reading the Daily Prophet and glanced at the headline; it was advertising their upcoming coverage of the third task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, which was only two days away.

It took effort to force herself to not grab the paper for herself as she passed to read everything she could. She knew it was happening, that Harry would… that he would end up the graveyard with Riddle if she did nothing. He went into the alley behind the Cauldron and entered Diagon proper, trying to keep herself from hyperventilating.

There was no way she could get to Harry. Not from outside the castle; if she had been in her other body she had plans, so many things she could have done, but there was no way she could get into the castle undetected. Not so close to the task.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, knowing she was abandoning Harry to suffer Voldemort’s anger. He would live. She had to focus on that. He wouldn’t die there. 

She brushed away her tears as she made her way into Gringotts, ignoring all the other customers and striding up to an unoccupied Cashier.

It took more than a minute for the goblin to deign to acknowledge her existence, scratching away at some papers as it ignored her presence. She waited patiently; there was a process to this if she wanted things to go smoothly. No matter how frustrating it could be at times.

When he finally did look up at her, she didn't waste any time. "Cashier, I require an exchange of pounds to Galleons. After, I require further, private, enquiries.” She took the pilfered notes and placed them in separated denominations on the counter.

The goblin stared her in the eye unblinkingly before nodding its head and counting the money. “Two-hundred and fifteen pounds, that will be forty-three Galleons, with a fee of five Galleons.”

It was the standard exchange rate, and she wasn’t going to haggle over the transaction fees. Not when she had more than she needed. “Acceptable. My private enquiries?”

The goblin grumbled briefly before hopping off its stool and slamming its gate closed. “Follow me,” it snarled at her over its shoulder.

It was a short trip through the slightly slanted maze that was the Gringotts bank building before they enter into a small private room. A _very_ small room. He didn't think much of her; not that any goblins thought much of any Witches or Wizards.

The goblin sat behind the room's desk and gestured for Hermione to take the only other seat: a rather uncomfortable looking stool.

“What are your private enquiries, witch?”

Hermione ignored the goblins bored tone and spoke as plainly as possible. “An inheritance blood test. I have a certain claim on one house, and possible regency of another.”

The goblin raised its eyebrows at her but did not comment as it pulled out a bowl and knife from the drawers of the desk.

“That will be ten Galleons to begin the test and ten again in six hours to receive the results, regardless of the outcome. You may not use magic within the bank, even to close the wound. Is this understood?”

“It is understood.” 

"It is understood." At her response and the placement of ten golden coins on the desk, the goblin pushed the bowl over to her and handed her the knife. It seemed a little surprised when she didn't hesitate or flinch from cutting her palm, but as she bled freely into the bowl it watched the blood fall with undisguised glee.

It was nearly a minute later that the goblin told her to stop. There was a hint of disappointment as it did so; goblins were notoriously bloodthirsty for a reason.

Hermione glared at her still bleeding palm. She had completely forgotten to prepare something to bind the cut, and bleeding her way out of the bank was a _bad_ idea. “Is there a supply of bindings available?” Once again Hermione wished she things had gone according to plan, where she would be at Hogwarts and stopping Barty Crouch, getting evidence of Voldemort’s return to those who would listen, stopping Harry from being trapped in the graveyard without backup...

It didn’t matter. She couldn’t follow her plan now. She had to make do.

"Bindings are available, witch. At a bargain price of three sickles," he stated, with a predatory grin showing his needle-like teeth.

Sighing at the blatant extortion Hermione placed another Galleon on the counter with one hand while she kept the other above the bowl. Unless it started overflowing more blood wouldn’t cause an issue, but spilling it everywhere might be considered rude. She wasn't too sure whether it would or not, truthfully.

She grabbed the bandages as soon as the goblin pulled them out of a drawer and hastily wrapped her hand. It didn’t need to be neat, just strong enough to last until she got out of the bank. She could heal herself properly as soon as she was outside.

The Cashier quickly made change for her Galleon, grumbling all the while. "Is there anything else?" He droned out, clearly bored now that the blood had stopped flowing. He still dutifully took back the bowl and knife, muttering over them to cleanse the blade and create a seal on the bowl.

“No. I will return before dusk for the results and the completion of our transaction. May your duties bring you wealth, Cashier.”

The goblin quirked slightly at her use of the formal departure. “Your name, witch?”

“My full name is in question. However, I will be returning as Hermione Jane Granger.”

“May your fallen blood bring wealth to you, Miss Granger.”

With a nod, the Cashier stood and led Hermione back to the main hall of the bank. She cradled her wounded hand as she walked, thinking over what she needed to do. The pain didn't bother her much; it wasn't anything worse than the training hexes her older self had automated in Grimmauld’s duelling chamber. Her pre-regression self was… a little sadistic, as well as blatantly insane.

She couldn’t fault her older self’s methods were effective. They had certainly toughened her up. That didn’t mean she liked them, though.

Regency would make so many things simpler; she would have access to more funds—which she didn't want to touch unless absolutely necessary. It wasn't her money even if she did gain access. And it would let her free Harry from—

She growled at herself, earning a curious look from her escort. She couldn’t take Harry from the Dursleys; if she did there would be a giant manhunt started by Dumbledore, and it would make a mess. He could track Harry by his blood and they would never stay free. She couldn’t focus on his short-term happiness over her long term goals.

All that would cause is both of them getting obliviated. Dumbledore’s portrait had admitted to doing that to them at least once, and she couldn’t trust that it hadn’t lied. She had to focus on the future. Harry living a long and happy life free from manipulation.

Immediately upon exiting Gringotts she pulled her wand and healed her hand. She had hours to kill waiting for the test results, and since she was hungry she may as well start with food. She headed to Cauldron to get something to eat.

–oOoOo–

A full meal, a few essential pieces of clothing from Madam Malkins, a book from Flourish & Blotts, and six hours later Hermione was on her way back to Gringotts feeling thoroughly bored. There was no point heading into Knockturn with the funds she had, and handling her parents wasn’t going to be a swift affair. Seventeen Galleons and a few sickles simply weren’t enough to get anything done; she needed the inheritance results.

She didn’t have any idea of how to convince her counterpart yet either. “She’s going to be so much worse than I was after the ritual…” Hermione laughed, remembering how desperately she had tried to find some flaw in the narrative she had been given. There were some, but they weren’t hidden. _His_ motives weren’t known, and why no one noticed except… _Neville_ , she didn't understand.

She hadn’t found anything to contradict what she had been shown and had been forced to accept it as the truth. But even with all the evidence she had available it had taken weeks. She had to figure something out; her other self cared for her _friends_ too much to distrust them on some stranger’s word. Even if that stranger was herself from the future.

Maybe she could make her leave too, hit her with compulsions and have all of them leave for New Zealand? Hermione hated the idea of using any kind of controlling magic, but she didn’t have a choice with her parents. They wouldn’t leave in time otherwise, and she couldn’t keep them safe in Britain with everything else she had to do.

By the time she reached the steps of Gringotts Hermione had decided that her counterpart deserved a chance to fight as well. A chance to try. It would be strange, confusing, and make everything more complicated, but she didn’t have the right to make her leave. 

King’s Cross was the best time to grab her, no matter what ended up happening. She would need to be there—polyjuice would make it easier. And show off how _vulnerable_ her counterpart was.

Hermione was heading towards a teller when she heard her name being called, startling her out of her musings.

"Miss Granger, I presume." A well-dressed goblin, escorted by several guards and holding a vicious-looking axe, was staring at her. "I do believe we need to… talk."

Hermione suppressed a giddy grin. She had the regency; she didn't recognise the goblin, but he was far too polished to be handling a long-defunct account like the Dagworth-Grangers. “If the possibility I mentioned earlier this day is a reality, then we do indeed need to talk...” She looked the goblin up and down to find some marker of his rank, and her eyes widened as she found it. “Great Keeper.”

The goblin quirked an eyebrow at the mention of his rank and bared his teeth. “It is a reality. Please, follow me to my office.”

She nodded and stepped up to follow, finding herself flanked by the Great Keeper’s guards. The entire bank around them had stopped to stare as she, a tiny witch, was escorted by one of the highest-ranked goblins in the bank and half a dozen heavily armed guards.

The whispers around her were loud enough that she could catch the gist of their curiosity; they didn’t recognise her and were wondering what warranted such an unusual response from Gringotts. Magicals were such awful gossips.

The office she was seen to this time was a far cry from the one earlier: trophies taken from magical beasts, glistening axes, and artfully woven tapestries covered the walls. "Take a seat, Miss Granger, we have some items of importance to discuss." The Great Keeper hung his axe up behind his desk and sat down, and Hermione followed suit. "Firstly, how are you, a child of fifteen years, in truth, twenty-eight years old? And more, adopted into a family that has had no adoptions performed within the last hundred years?"

The Great Keeper's antagonistic approach, and lack of a provided name worried her a little. Still, she _had_ prepared for this. With the help of a guide written by a Vault Keeper no less. She would manage. “Is it the business of Gringotts to question their client’s origin?”

The Great Keeper flashed his pointed teeth and let out a rasping bark. “No. But I have taken an interest in this account, it has long had… irregularities.” Before Hermione could respond, he pushed on. “Second, why is it you know our titles and honours?”

“Great Keeper, a challenge made must be won in the end.” That phrase had been prepared for her specifically. There was no warning outside the bank, only a challenge. It wasn’t the only reason they had helped her, but it was the largest one by far. It would also set him on the right track for _how_ she knew what she did; Gringotts was peculiar about knowing future events.

His eyes widened and he barked in Gobbledegook. Moments later the guards who had entered the room with the two of them departed, and the door to the Great Keeper’s office slammed shut. 

“Interesting. You, Miss Granger, are very interesting.” He paused momentarily and tapped one clawed finger on his desk, scratching the polish. “Interesting can be valuable, or it can… not. We should move onto business and find out which you are, no?”

“And may that business cause my vaults to overflow, and that flow to spill into your own.” Goblins did not do charity. They banked because they could use a Wizard’s gold to make more gold for themselves. Most magicals didn’t even know they did it, but goblins were vicious investment bankers. Despite banning the usage of divination—the best answer she had gotten about that was that it ruined the fun.

“Indeed.” He mused, eyeing her even more closely than before. “You are, as you stated before, the heir to an old house. The remaining assets are limited but entirely available to you. The second part of your testing fee has already been taken from this vault."

Hermione merely nodded in response. It was unusual, but more important goblins wouldn’t waste their time with a transaction as small as ten Galleons.

“Further, as a ritually adopted sibling of Heir Harry James Potter, you have the rights to claim the inheritance of House Potter.”

“I will not.” It wasn’t hers. Not even back in the future had she considered it hers. It was Harry’s, it would always be Harry’s, his and his children’s. She _couldn’t_ touch it. Even if the Great Keeper wouldn’t have executed her on the spot for daring to claim the Potter-Peverell line when the true heir lived, she would _never_ do it. “That right belongs to the true heir, Harry James Potter. In his stead, and until his majority, I would claim Regency to act in his name.”

Gringotts didn’t care for wizards, but they did care for heritage and inheritance. They were some of the few things they had in common with Purebloods; they both could trace their ancestry for dozens of generations, and a single missing ancestor was considered shameful. Houses, clans, and names became important by extension. Especially the Peverells. The Peverell name the goblins truly _respected._

For a moment the Great Keeper seemed disappointed by her response, likely at the lack of bloodshed, but he quickly regained his vicious grin. “You have every right, and reason, to do so. However, you will have to answer several questions…” His gaze sharpened and bored into her own. “Such as why you have not done this before now and allowed the Heir to languish in ignorance and hardship.” He tensed, ready to pounce and rip her throat in an instant.

Hermione couldn’t stop herself shivering in the face of the violence promised by the goblin if she made a mistake. She wouldn’t. She was prepared. But it was still terrifying. “Any such questions asked will be answered.” She couldn’t back down, she would lose his respect if she did.

The Great Keeper relaxed marginally. “Hm. Why did you not claim regency before today?”

“I became eligible to claim the Regency…” Hermione spotted a small clock on the desk and check the time. Three-twenty PM. “Roughly eight hours and twenty minutes ago.”

“I see. This explains much… What might you be able to tell Gringotts of the future, Miss Granger?”

“Nothing, lest the treaty of United Clans and Worthy Competition, signed in May of twelve-forty-nine, be broken.”

"Hah!" The Great Keeper barked out a laugh. "You were prepared well by your tutor, whoever they were." He nodded his head. "I am Great Keeper Stoneslicer, though you will largely be dealing with Vault Keeper Ripstalk. For the moment you do have my attention; what _do_ you intend as Regent Potter?”

“To see all transactions since the deaths of the Last Head of House and his spouse examined in detail, all payments anyone named ‘Dursley’ investigated for fraud, and a lock-down of all keys and vaults until the true-blooded heir reactivates them.” She hesitated for a moment. “Save the trust vault for purposes of Hogwarts tuition, and an allowance of two hundred Galleons for school supplies. Further decisions will have to wait for the completion of the accounting.”

“Very well. The paperwork is already prepared, the Bloodquill ready to be inked, and there is still much for us to discuss. Let us get to it, Regent Granger-Potter-Peverell, for our blood must be spilt to quell our foes and turn their coin into our own.”

“And their blood must be spilt to avenge crimes future and past.” Hermione took a deep breath to steel herself for the pain to come. “Give me that Merlin-be-damned quill.”

Great Keeper Stoneslicer simply grinned wider in response as he handed the torturous quill to her.

**1st of July, 1995, A Place to Grow Old, the Forest of Dean**

“The goblins are really like that?” Hermione asked curiously. Their culture was barely touched on by Binns during his rants about rebellions, and she hadn’t found a single book about them that didn’t have the same issues as Binns' lectures. She'd had the same issue when looking up information on house-elves too.

Her few encounters with goblins at Gringotts with her parents had been gruff, rude, and very short. They got the job done fast but without any kind of politeness; maybe it was because she and her parents weren’t being what they considered polite?

“If you know what to do and what to say, yes. But it isn’t easy to learn—you have to win their respect before they will teach you, and even once you know, you aren’t allowed to teach anyone yourself.” Mia yawned slowly. She had been going over the activities of her first day back for several hours without pause and had gotten quite tired.

Even if it was only early afternoon with how little she had slept herself, Hermione was feeling tired as well. But there was so much she needed to ask, needed to learn. She was relying on the coffee—prepared just the way she liked it—to keep going as she made notes on Mia's lecture.

“Why didn’t you help Harry? Why… why didn’t you save Cedric?”

"Cedric?" Mia mumbled, sounding strangely confused. "I didn't help Harry because, as I told you, I couldn't get to Hogwarts in time. Not safely. And I knew he'd live… but Cedric? Cedr—” Her eyes flew wide open and she slammed her cup down before covering her mouth with both hands, horror etched across her face. “Cedric… I… I no. I didn’t think of him. But the reasons are the same… I—I couldn’t.”

“What?!” Hermione screamed, “You didn’t THINK of him?! He DIED! Harry watched him DIE!” She had jumped upright, drink forgotten, and anger colouring her face.”

"I—I don't remember…. I don't remember everything. I know lots, yes. Like I said earlier, everything perfectly up until December twenty-first last year—the Solstice—but after that, it's just snippets, what was explained by the older us… older me." Mia began shaking under Hermione's angry gaze. "I—there wasn't any plan to save him made by… old-us. There was plenty about how to help Harry, to try to… stop the cup from being a portkey. To prepare him in case that didn't work. To get help to him, tell people where he went… but Cedric? I… I think Cedric was incidental. If I changed things…" Mia looked up, her eyes quivering and wet with tears. "If Harry won easier… it was a fluke, wasn't it, that they both went?"

“It wasn’t a fluke. Harry was being noble—oh he said he was _fine_ and I believed him.” Hermione felt her own eyes begin to water as how stupid she had been dawned on her. “He must think it was his fault…” She shook her head, focusing back on her anger. Harry wasn’t here, but this—her future-self, her duplicate who let Cedric die, was. “If you had influenced Harry, made it easier for him to win, Cedric wouldn’t have been there. Why didn’t you follow those plans then?!”

"Because the castle wasn't safe! You know the map, you know how it works." Mia cried out in frustration but then shook her head as she came to the same conclusion as Hermione.

"No, I don't know how it works. I tried to figure it out and it just insulted me." She continued glaring at Mia, finding it easier to be angry than to think about how terrible Harry must feel. "I don't see how it's relevant." She snapped.

"It does that... and it is relevant. It works off the castle wards. Specifically, the same monitoring wards keyed into the headmaster's head." 

"You mean..."

"Dumbledore would know about there being two of us at once. He also knew about Moody all along, and knew about both Sirius and Peter, yes. All of that. That or he's outright neglecting the wards. McGonagall, when she became headmistress, tracked every new name that entered the school—only ignoring students after their first year, and keeping an eye—mind's eye at least—on the Professors at all times."

"You're saying he knew... That he knew... Ginny, he would have known she was opening the chamber too. She was the only one wandering the halls at the right times, the one leading the Basilisk around. Why did he never do anything?"

"Because Harry needed trials, to be strong enough, brave enough, self-sacrificing enough, to listen to an old man and walk to his death willingly."

Hermione fell back into her seat. If this was true—if Professor Dumbledore had known all that—then he wasn't just neglectful and unhelpful, he was actively putting them in danger. It fit, however. He always seemed aware of exactly where people were when it suited him, and only unaware when it suited some strange happening…

If he, the greatest wizard alive, was trying to do that to them, she didn’t know what she would do. She couldn’t believe it, there was no way someone as great as—she cut that train of thought off. She knew he had done horrible things. Harry’s life was a testament to that; the Headmaster was a manipulative child abuser. Or accessory to it, she wasn’t sure how the law would treat him.

She didn’t even need what Mia had told her to know that much. Just her memories of the last four years, what little Harry had said about the Dursleys, how he came to Hogwarts each year half-starved and wearing little more than rags.

All when Dumbledore was in charge of his care. His magical guardian. Or at least, his guardian by proxy, since Sirius was unable to fulfil the role.

“That won’t be happening this time.” Mia began, “There’s a better way—several, really—and the information on them is all conveniently in the place we’re going to get kidnapped and sent to once we stop hiding.” Mia fidgeted nervously.

Hermione quickly went over what she had said that might have caused that reaction. Or what Mia might have let slip that would have left her worried how she might react. Her eyes widened in shock; she’d gotten distracted thinking about the Headmaster and not even noticed it.

“Walk to his death,” Hermione stated coldly.

Mia flinched and took in a deep breath. “Yes. Seeing him dead, or believing him to be when he was pretending to be dead… it was like the world had gone dark. Everything was empty and cold—that memory was one of the worst… not the worst to take in, but close—Even through the haze of the time, the potions and… _bonding_ that clouded my— _her—_ thoughts it felt like the world had ended and nothing else mattered. It’s what I’ll see around Dementors now, I’m sure.” Mia quivered for a moment, her breath shaky. Then she closed her eyes, took in a deep breath and began releasing it slowly. She went near perfectly still as she repeated the action, doing what Hermione recognised as some of the more basic Occlumency meditation exercises from the book.

Harry could understand her reaction somewhat. Seeing Harry hurt had always made her feel terrible. She had gone into a panic when he didn’t reappear with the cup and it made her regret not being more helpful that year. He hadn’t entered himself and was in a tournament for people much older than him—it shouldn’t have mattered to her if he was _supposed_ to do things by himself, he was her best friend. She—she didn’t know what she would do if he died, and he had come so close. So very close, so many times.

She had no idea what she would do without him; Ron was her friend because of Harry, and she didn't have anyone else. Just her parents. She couldn't go back to how she was before Hogwarts—if she didn't have Harry… she wasn't even sure she could live without him anymore. He was the centre of her world. She loved him.

It wasn’t so much a revelation that she loved Harry, more of a fact of reality settling into place in her mind. She had known she had a crush on him since their first year, ever since he came for her in the girl's loo on Halloween. Maybe even before that. But she hadn't realised it was love until now.

"How deeply in love with Harry am I?" Hermione murmured, somewhat unsettled by just how emotionally dependent she had become on her best friend.

"With what I've seen, and with what I've felt from the memories I've taken into myself… if he dies, I do too. I can't, won't, live without him." Mia's voice began breaking up as she started crying. "I won't get in your way, you know. Or try at all. I need to win this war, stop the plans of those that endanger him—endanger us. I don't have time to take care of him, to be there for him like that." She looked up and matched chocolate brown eyes with chocolate brown eyes. "You have to take care of him. Keep him sane, keep him happy. I'll see to our safety so long as… so long as you can be there for Harry."

Hermione nodded and couldn’t help but feel for her doppelganger. Saying that she couldn’t live without Harry, and giving up on him at the same time… Hermione would do it too if she had to in order to keep him safe, but it would hurt. Seeing him someone else would be horrible, knowing she had lost any chance she had with him would be awful, but she would recover so long as he was still her friend. 

Mia, if she had been brainwashed by the—seemingly _evil_ —older version of themselves, would probably need Harry even more than she did. And yet she gave up on him anyway, wouldn’t even try, because seeing him safe was more important.

"It's the firebolt all over again, isn't it?" Seeing Mia's lack of comprehension, Hermione clarified. "It doesn't matter if he hates us, if we stop being friends. His safety is more important. He has to survive, to live, and be safe. It's logical; he can't be his friend if he's dead, and… and there's always a chance he will forgive us if he's alive."

It took a few moments for Mia to respond, but she nodded. "Yes," she whispered, "you understand."

Hermione decided to change the topic before their conversation became even more solemn. “So, what did you end up doing with that… Great Keeper? In regards to your, I mean our, inheritance and the Potter Regency?”

Mia smiled, grateful for the change of topic. “Our inheritance has largely been spent on what you see here, the materials for a space-expanded bag, and fake bodies to trick the Death Eaters with when they attack our parents. The books are still sealed in the vault—they’re all potion books, N.W.E.T and mastery level for the most part. Useful later, but not now. You’ll get them all in the end.

“As for the Potter Regency… Harry’s guardianship is going to be transferred to me, as by Gringott’s reckoning I’m an adult and they’ll lie to anyone who asks about my age happily. It won’t mean _too_ much, as I doubt Dumbledore will let something as minor as Harry no longer legally being in his care stop him from doing what he does. It will mean I can act as his representative in legal matters, at least. Or appoint someone for him.

“I’m also getting you, and me by extension, as my ward. Being the regent also let me claim the debt your owed to Harry, as you should recall. Having you as my ward will mean you won’t go to _Molly_ and will be safe from that angle, but she’ll still try anyway. I’m sure of _that._ ” Mia turned away and muttered something under breath that Hermione didn’t catch.

“Otherwise I’m leaving the Vault Keeper, Ripstalk, to finish the accounting and to hound everyone who misused access over the last fourteen years. He’s… I met him in the future. He’s good at what he does, and will make sure Harry gets the inheritance he deserves.”

“What about legitimate transactions—there had to be some. Harry had Mrs Weasley buy his school supplies last year.”

"Well, yes. She has a budget for last year. I know she bought Ginny's dress robes for the Yule Ball with Harry's money though, which isn't acceptable. Professor McGonagall bought Harry's Nimbus in first-year with his own money; it went to him, but it was presented as if it were a _gift_." Mia shook her head. "Harry withdrew money in first-year with Hagrid, and in second-year with the Weasleys. Third-year he never went to the bank for some reason. Odd, considering he spent over a month in Diagon."

“I don’t get why. He wanted a Firebolt, why didn’t he check how much money he had in his vault? He just assumed it was too expensive and never went.” Mia sighed. “If he had he would have been taken to see Ripstalk, which might have changed things. Or it might not. Dumbledore probably would have Obliviated him of anything he learned anyway.”

“How do you know all that?” Some of it Mia could have learnt from account statements, but it still seemed strange to know so much about Harry’s activities from what would have been years past.

"I, you…" Mia sighed. "You need your Occlumency training done, not just… everything. You need it for everything, they're all important secrets." Mia shook her head and pursed her lips. "There's… an object, a magical artefact that can summon ghosts. I— _she_ , both of us—summoned Harry’s ghost. A lot.” She looked away and clasped her hands together, fidgeting nervously. “It can’t compel people to speak, or even to stay against their will. It just summons them. But Harry, he was always willing to talk. Even if he forgot everything that happened during previous summonings when he appeared the next time it was comforting to talk to him.”

She let out a nervous chuckle. “Very awkward too; he was twenty-eight, hadn’t spoken to me in years, and… and there I was. A fifteen-year-old girl who remembered him as a boy I wanted to ask me to the Yule Ball. I had to figure out a quick way to explain things to him so I had time with him before it… before being called back from the grave started to hurt him.”

Hermione didn’t know how to respond to learning that she, without intervention, would have grown up to not only be a murderer but also a _necromancer._ One who abused Harry’s spirit. A nervous shiver ran up her spine; the very idea was unsettling. “That sounds… tragic? He forgot every time, and you kept calling him anyway?”

“The last thing he remembered was dying. Nothing after. And since he… since he died saving my— _her_ life, even after not speaking in years, he always tried to make sure I was okay.” She leaned back into her seat and wrapped her arms around herself. “He didn’t approve of what I was doing, or what I—what _she_ had done. He’d fought in a war, beaten Voldemort. Even if it wasn’t a fairy-tale ending, we had won.

“If you can call what happened to _her_ winning.” She added bitterly. “But even then, disapproving as he was, knowing that I had done horrible things to people he cared about, he never hated me. Or _Her_. Just… tried to convince me to do better. To be a better person; to live.”

Hermione grasped onto the thought that Harry card about her like a lifeline. Mia’s depressive mood was infectious, and nothing she was hearing was pleasant. “He never gave up on… you, her, us?”

“Never, not even after all we did. It’s what got him killed in the end.”

Hermione burgeoning smile faded immediately. Any hope of having a pleasant conversation was gone after that statement.

Not feeling up to hearing more about the horribly depressing future she had supposedly had Hermione picked up the books on Occlumency and began reading. Even if Mia wasn’t telling the truth she completely believed that Snape, horrible man that he was, read her, Harry, and other’s minds without any remorse. That alone was enough reason to study Occlumency.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter bothers me in how much it’s largely a pile of talking heads, and a pair of identical heads at that.  
> Despite that, I recognise its necessity. I needed a long, explanation filled, chapter for Hermione to start coming to grips with things.


	3. Ch. III - Hermione Tells A Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is where we get the first glimpse of… well, the darker side of the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Tyrannic_Puppy for providing commentary and beta work on this chapter.
> 
> Edit: 16/10/19 rewritten to be more up to date with my current style of writing and fixed most of the errors.   
> Updated on 31/03/20
> 
> Disclaimer: Does everyone believe the girl who sets teachers on fire, tricks them into giving her unlimited access to forbidden books, steals ingredients from them, brewed a restricted potion in a bathroom, and illegally used a dangerous time-travel artifact to rescue an escaped prisoner is an authority worshipping teacher’s pet? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.

**6th of July, 1995, A Place to Grow Old, the Forest of Dean**

Hermione wasn't a morning person. She was compared to most of her peers but being compared to a bunch of teenagers that didn’t mean much. When it came down to it, she stayed awake reading too often to be a morning person.

That she now had to wake up at three AM, from a magically induced sleep, didn’t make her feelings on mornings any better. It should be at least a _little_ sunny outside before she had to wake up. There were mornings, and then there were _mornings._ This was definitely one of the latter.

Still feeling groggy Hermione dressed and picked up what she needed for her part of their plan. They both had to be wearing identical clothes, have identical haircuts—they had even gone to a barber to for that, something she never normally did.

They had prepared properly and made a plan. Not a last-second Gryffindor plan either; one which they had thought out and prepared for the expected reactions. From Harry, and the Headmaster's Order of the Phoenix. Hermione felt ready, if frustratingly sleepy. As ready as she ever did for anything at least. Which meant she wished she had an extra month of preparations and another half a dozen-backup plans, but it was still better than she usually felt when about to go on an _‘adventure’_ as Ron liked to call them. It helped that she wasn’t the one bearing the brunt of the risk.

In her week with Mia, she had learned about parts of the magical world that she had never encountered before, prepared for things she didn’t even know were possible. Maybe, if faced with someone like Barty Crouch again she would be able to resist the Imperius when she had gotten better at Occlumency. The thought of how he had controlled her in that classroom—she shivered just remembering it. Knowing it wasn’t someone trustworthy who had been in such a position of power over her. Even her own mind hadn’t been safe.

Mia had shown her that, even if she was wrong about the Weasleys and the Headmaster—and Hermione sincerely hoped that Mia was wrong—she was absolutely right about one thing: Magic is terrifying.

The Imperius Curse was just one among hundreds. It was dangerous because it was quick, hard to resist, and with practice, _subtle_. Combined with a Memory Charm—which was harder to use magicals than Muggles, but did still work—and the possibilities were horrifying.

It was hardly limited to spells either. Life-debts were rare, unless you were named Harry Potter, and could make someone act as if something was their own choice. Their own decision. Love Potions were only the surface of the liquids Hermione shuddered to think about. 

They weren’t even illegal, just restricted. Considered _crass,_ not a _crime._ Even a simple first-year spell, Petrificus Totalus, could render someone completely helpless in a moment if they were caught by surprise. A helpless victim for whatever misdeeds someone wished to inflict upon them.

That she had never considered all the misuses magic could be put to before was shocking.

That no one seemed to care enough to inform or prepare them properly was terrifying.

Maybe it was meant to be the job of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but that just made their string of bad teachers even worse. But even if it was, even Professor Lupin had never mentioned it. And Professor Moo— _Barty Crouch_ had only tangentially taught that lesson as part of his lesson on the Unforgivables.

When she had come to that realisation, five days prior, she had thrown herself into studying how to protect herself from mind-magics with abandon. Reading everything available in the tent and questioning mia endlessly. There were many, many different ways the rich and powerful protected themselves from such dangers. Occlumency was the most effective if done properly, but it wasn’t the most common.

Most purebloods relied on enchanted jewellery; typically something that couldn’t be taken off instead of Occlumency, but they also learned how to defend themselves from a young age. Unexplained or unexpected gifts were also treated with suspicion and checked for jinxes, hexes, and curses before use. Like she had done with Harry’s Firebolt two Christmases ago.

Hermione had felt vindicated after she had read about that particular custom. They had been _wrong_ to be angry at her for going to Professor McGonagall. Ron had, anyway. Harry she should have spoken to first and at least tried to have him see reason. She would have still gone if he hadn’t listened, of course, but she should have spoken to him first.

The same custom with presents made Mrs Weasley's behaviour look a little odd; apparently, Witches and Wizards didn't normally give or receive presents outside of their immediate family. Which made the Weasley jumpers Harry had been receiving since first year quite strange; but then, he was Harry, and had never had a Christmas before at all. 

There had been an interesting aside on House-Elves too; they were considered the only trustworthy neutral party. They weren’t able to harm humans except to protect them from greater harm, such as by pushing someone out of the way of a falling rock. They would hit the ground and be hurt, but less injured than if they hadn’t been. The only exception was in direct defence of their master.

That they were considered so trustworthy made why they were so vital to magical society more obvious. It was still vile, holding an entire species in thrall, but she had begun to contemplate hiring Dobby herself. But it did bring up the question of what constituted harm? If she had been potioned at Hogwarts—which wasn’t really something she doubted anymore—the elves had to have known. 

Maybe Dumbledore was able to order them to add things to their food by saying it was a health tonic? Or because he was nominally in charge of Harry's life, and she was only potioned by accident as Mia had said? She and Harry tended to sit together during meals, taking from the same platters and sometimes even from the same plates.

That had started because she had noticed how little he ate and forced him to eat more. She knew why now, but at the time she had lectured him on how young Witches and Wizards had significantly faster metabolisms than muggles. Which was why someone like Ron, who ate enormous meals, managed to not get fat.

In any case, while she wasn’t about to declare the Headmaster evil yet—he was trying to stop a Dark Lord after all—her faith in the Defeater of Grindelwald had been shaken to its core. His manipulations of Harry, even if they had somehow lead to Vol–V–Tom Riddle’s defeat and weren’t malicious, were reprehensible. Mia’s opinion on the matter was clear: she didn’t trust the Headmaster in the slightest, nor did she have any respect left for him.

In truth, her own opinion was moving in the same direction. Mia hadn’t tried to force her to change her opinions or beliefs at all, just armed her with knowledge and skills, but that only made her more trustworthy.

The letter Harry had sent on the third had been a factor in her change of opinion. He’d had a nightmare, one where he saw Vold–Riddle torturing his followers, and just as the Headmaster had told him to, he’d sent a letter. He had gotten a reply telling him to remain home, don’t worry, and remain safe. 

Hedwig had shown up with his letter to them with Harry’s complaint about the Headmaster—and Hedwig had demonstrated, as she looked between them, that Owls _could_ look confused—only a few hours after Harry had received his reply, and it showed. He had, in his frustration, let slip more than he usually would.

She had already known from Mia that he had these visions, and that they were real, but Harry had accidentally admitted that this wasn’t the first one. That Professor Dumbledore wasn’t doing _anything_ to help Harry when he was blaming himself for Cedric’s death and being tormented by visions of Voldemor— _Voldemort,_ she _could_ use his name!—was what had made her decision to distrust him final.

The letter had also caused some awkwardness with Mia, as they had begun ranting in sync and kept going—even finishing each other’s arguments at points—for nearly an hour. It was strange how similarly they thought, yet their opinions, attitudes, and goals were still so very different.

Their opinion on Harry’s treatment and entrapment at the Dursley residence, however, was perfectly aligned. Harry might not have physical scars outside of his short stature from living with the Dursleys—and whilst Hermione appreciated not being towered over she did feel conflicted about it due to how he came about his height—but the emotional damage was extensive. It was obvious in hindsight, seeing how little he initiated any form of social activity. 

All of that guilt, while shared with those horrible people, could also be linked back to Albus Dumbledore.

Her growing distastes for the Headmaster, regardless of her feelings for the Weasleys, had only fuelled her drive to learn. Not that her drive to learn something new—let alone something as fascinating as Occlumency—was ever a small thing. Occlumency, rudimentary as what she could manage so far was, assisted her memory as well as protected her mind.

It wasn’t just helping with new memories, but also the older ones. Which only aided in her examination of what had occurred over the years at Hogwarts; where _had_ the Professors been when Harry had been declared the Heir of Slytherin or a cheat for entering the Tri-Wizard Tournament?

The spells weren’t particularly complicated, but the habit necessary to cast them on everything she had to eat and drink was proving difficult to form. It wasn’t that she forgot it was necessary, but her family had never had any little rituals before they ate and learning an entirely new one was strange, especially since making a mistake could be devastating.

She had also tried to learn more about the future, but Mia was reluctant to tell her anyway. It wasn't hard to understand; her Occlumency was still weak and she hadn't decided how she felt about the Weasleys. At least, not the decision Mia wanted. Hermione's counterpart was at least staying true to what she had said—she wasn't trying to influence her decision with future knowledge. Even if it was infuriating to know there was so much information that she could have, but didn't, so easily accessible.

Hermione truly didn’t want to think badly of the Weasleys. They had taken Harry in and, overall, been quite kind to her. Molly had joined in the masses over Rita Skeeter’s articles, but Harry had gone and set her straight on that. Not everything was perfect; she should have objected when Molly told her story about using a love potion on Arthur. The very idea was _horrible._ And it fit with what little Mia had told her; that he had been given potions, but wasn’t anymore.

A man like Arthur wouldn’t leave his children even if he didn’t love his wife. Not that anything she had seen made her believe he didn’t, they certainly seemed like they loved each other.

There were some suspicious things which didn't entirely add up, but there wasn't any evidence that the Weasleys, Molly, Ron, or Ginny, were up to anything nefarious. She wouldn't turn against them without something certain, and there just wasn't any. She would, at least, pay more attention until Hogwarts started again. She _had_ promised not to tell anyone before September first, so she would take the opportunity to examine the Weasley’s behaviour in person herself.

Having finished dressing and the rest of her morning ritual Hermione pulled herself out of her ruminations. She had expected Mia to have come and collected her by now, the girl was usually awake and preparing a meal when Hermione woke up. Not that she ever seemed to sleep well, always looking half-dead in the mornings. But then, this time she had given Hermione an alarm clock charmed to wake her up. It may have been the only one she had.

Hermione made her way through the dark tent to Mia's room, a room she had avoided entering before now. There was still something unsettling about seeing her own face worn by someone else. It was less of a gut reaction and more of an intellectual one, strangely. She couldn't help worrying about how people might attribute Mia's behaviour to her.

They didn’t think the same, didn’t make the same decisions. What would Harry think of her, of Mia, and what had happened? Would he be able to tell them apart? They _were_ different, but they looked and sounded so similar she was worried that Harry and Ron wouldn’t be able to tell. It was hard to believe just how much of a difference Mia’s six months in the future.

If she was telling the truth about all that, which it did appear she was. There wasn’t a better explanation that Hermione could think of for why Mia was fifteen rather than much, much older otherwise. The memories she talked about, and the _integration_ of them would account for some of it. But how bad could they really be? Psychology wasn’t something she had focused on in her reading, so she was well aware she didn’t know how badly experiencing something traumatic might change her.

The troll _had_ changed how she acted; making her cling to her new-found friendship with Harry and Ron desperately, but she attributed that as much to her loneliness at the time as the terror she had felt from being attacked by the troll.

The Dementors had latched onto that memory fiercely, and that of her being petrified, but that hadn’t crippled her. She didn’t even remember being petrified—yellow eyes in a mirror and then waking up in the hospital wing. It had been unsettling to have lost that time and to have nearly died, but not… _traumatic._

Deciding she had stood outside and delayed checking on her not-exactly-a-sister for long enough Hermione pushed her rambling train of thought aside and slipped inside Mia’s room. The moment she crossed the threshold she heard whimpering and stifled sobs.

“No, Harry, not him. Why.” Mia was shaking with the covers thrown aside, her hands clutching her head and her legs pulled up tight against her chest. “Took me… Why. Can’t—” Mia screams suddenly, startling Hermione who rushes over to the side of the bed.

“Mia?” Hermione called out as she reached to shake her duplicate awake. “Mia, wake up! It’s just—” As Hermione’s hand touched Mia’s clammy skin everything twisted and something intrinsically _wrong_ snapped into focus.

 

**Early Morning, 30th of July, 2005, Longbottom Manor**

"Hello, Neville."

"Huh?"

"I said, 'Hello, _Neville'"_

 _"_ Hermione?!" his shock is apparent, but he quickly broke out into a grin, "Oh thank Merlin! We all thought you were dead!"

_Hurts._

She tilts her head to the side, "Why, Neville?"

"Huh? Why did we think you were dead? We were worried about you, after what Luna did to—"

"Ah. You seem to have forgotten. No, why ' _Thank Merlin'._ Personally, I'd thank _Luna_ these days." Her stare is unnerving, unblinking, "After all, she is the only one who had any _honour_. The only one with any _morals_."

"What are you on about... Oh. Oh no." He pales slightly, "But it had to have been consensual..."

"Consensual? You actually believed that?" She gives a hard laugh, it gives off the impression of broken glass tearing open old wounds, "There is no _consent_ in the world of _Mother Molly_. Only one big, _Happy,_ Weasley family."

_Hurts. Want it to stop._

"I... I didn't know. You said— I thought you—"

"Liar."

_Not allowed to give up. Keep living._

"No! It's true!"

"Liar. You just wanted to enjoy yourself, just like all the others. An offered _sample_ in exchange for silence. Such a good _Friend._ So _loyal._ So _Noble."_ Her voice which had remained cold throughout, suddenly heats into vicious anger, "And the worst part, you had me at the worst possible time. You. Kept. Me. From. Harry. You! You made me abandon him!" her voice rose to a screech, " ** _He NEEDED Me!"_**

_Sixth year. Hurts. Why. Why Leave him Alone. Hurts. Harry._

She settles down.

"Unforgivable."

Neville lunges for his wand, which had been idly left on a nearby table—unnecessary in his own home, in his own greenhouse. He loses the arm.

_Make them understand. It hurts so much._

He screams in pain and turns to face Hermione, defiant, but she can see the fear in his eyes.

"I would say try to beg for forgiveness when you meet him, but traitors will never reach the place he resides."

"I didn't betray him!"

"You all did."

With three bursts of red light, Neville is rendered unconscious and Hermione drags him over to one of towards one of the plants, but stops as she remembers something.

_Hide it. Hurts. Keep secret. Too many. Don't let them forget._

_It hurts._

She goes back, collects his severed arm and brands it with the mark of the Deathly Hallows before reattaching it to Neville's body. After vanishing the spilt blood she finally pushes him into the waiting vines of the plant, which latches on and into his flesh, beginning to drain the life from him.

By morning nothing would be left of Neville Longbottom outside of a dry, empty husk.

_Remember the promise, who you promised._

_I deserve the hurt. I failed him._

She leaves without looking back at her dying former _friend,_ simply walking out of the greenhouse, calling for her elf, and vanishing.

The investigation later that day would find three dead house elves, their heads hung on the walls of the hall, all marked as dying in defence of their master. No other evidence as to the nature of the killer of the last Longbottom is mentioned, the mark on his arm never mentioned.

All Hermione felt when she read about it in the Daily Prophet the next day was a grim sense of satisfaction.

**6th of July, 1995, A Place to Grow Old, the Forest of Dean**

Hermione found herself collapsed on the edge of Mia's bed when the nightmare ended, breathing heavily and only still upright and no collapsed on the floor because she seemed to have instinctively clung to Mia's bed. She was, however, barely able to register her position—her heart was pounding, her lungs gasping for more air, her head _screaming._

Everything was wrong. She had just killed Neville. Neville had—he—Harry had—she felt disgusted, revulsion she had been—Harry was gone—Neville, disgust and happiness—murdered him—Luna—blonde hair and a sad grimace— _Ron_ and how—Harry, her promise. 

Hermione twisted away from the bed, falling down to the floor and curling into a ball with one arm around her knees and her other hand press against her mount—both to hold back her rising bile and her intense desire to scream. 

It was _wrong_. Neville was alive, he was a kind boy—he didn’t care. He didn’t know. He _took her from—_ he never did that. He was _Neville_. Her friend. _Her friend._

He betrayed her. Even if he didn’t know he was doing it. He—

She bit down on her hand to stifle her scries, desperate for Mia to not see—to not notice what had happened. She didn’t—couldn’t—understand. She needed to know what happened, why it happened. She remained there, teeth worrying sore red marks into her hand for minutes that past far, far too slowly before she regained control and let out a rasping breath and unsteadily pushed herself upright.

She was still in Mia’s room, on Mia’s floor. Hermione’s rush to get upright as that dawned on her left her dizzy, but much to her relief Mia was still mostly asleep, only just rolling over and opening her eyes blearily.

"Her- Hermione?" Mia stumbled over their shared name, something she hadn't done for the last couple of days—a sign she was uncomfortable. Or maybe she was just tired. "Are you... alright?" 

Hermione was still reeling from the vision—Neville’s arm falling the paving slabs of his greenhouse with a wet _slap_ —and wobble unsteadily. Focused as she was on her own issues she didn’t notice Mia using the same meditation exercises she had been learning for Occlumency to calm down.

“I’m fine,” she snapped out. As soon as she had said it she winced, knowing she had done the same thing Harry always did—and that there was no way Mia would believe her. It sounded too fake, too hollow, even to her and she was the one who had said it. “I tripped, sorry.” She rubbed at her leg, pretending she was unsteady because she had bashed her knee.

It wasn't a good lie. She hated lying; it wasn't pleasant to lie, even if she could do it when she had time to think. She didn't this time. McGonagall not calling her out that first Halloween with Harry and Ron still confused her, but since it had won her their friendship she didn’t want to look at it too deeply.

The time with Lockhart had been far better planned, _premeditated_. She had prepared for that one properly, knowing how to trick him—what he would believe without question and how she needed to act to get what she wanted. It had worked better than she had believed possible at the time. Unfettered access to the restricted section for research—and then she had gone and messed up the hair for her Polyjuice and had it revoked.

Her thoughts inevitably drifted onto Harry and what he had done that year; making sure she was okay when the Polyjuice had kept her _disfigured_ for so long, and then—and then he had gone into the chamber. Harry had—

Harry was dead, he was, he had—Hermione’s breathing came faster and in shorter breaths as her heart began to race. Harry had died, he had—but she couldn’t remember how, the tournament—no, he came back. He was—she had seen him on the train, she had _kissed_ him! He was alive.

She focused on Mia who was sitting up on the bed. Those thoughts—the feelings, despair—Harry dead, Neville’s betrayal—they must be from the future. Harry was alive. She had to ignore the dream, had to ignore Neville’s body being suspended in his greenhouse as his plants drank his blood to the last drop.

They had a plan to enact. A lie to tell Harry, to the Order, to everyone. She had to focus on that, on the now. She could worry about the rest of it later.

"Alright," Mia said with a frown. She had undoubtedly seen through the lie but was willing to pretend nothing had happened, much to Hermione's relief. "I'll be ready in half an hour; do you have any last-minute questions?”

Hermione almost gave in to the temptation of asking why she had killed Neville—how he had _violated_ her, _betrayed_ her—but she kept her mouth shut and shook her head. She couldn’t ask that, not yet. Not now. Her curiosity, normally burning so strongly, had fallen quiet in the face of the disquiet she felt.

She didn’t need to ask about the plan either. Her role was simple, easy, and safe. Mia was the one taking all the risks, she just had to stand ready, follow a memorised lie, and be prepared for the inevitable interference.

Understand what she had seen, and why she had seen it, would have to wait until later. When nothing important was happening and she could sit down with a book on the subject of visions. Likely a divination book, if she could find one that was reputable—not that she considered that terribly likely. Talking to Harry was also an option; from his description, it was fairly similar to what he felt when he connected to Tom Riddle. She would have to consider that later.

"If you don't need anything, get out. I need to get dressed." Mia idly wiped a hand across her sweat-soaked sheets and grimaced. "And a shower." She was being curter than normal. Almost certainly still rattled from the nightmare.

Hermione didn’t linger; pointedly ignoring what she had seen in the vision and instead focusing on what she would need to do in the coming hours. She might be able to understand Mia a little more now, but this wasn’t the time to dwell on it.

Half an hour later they had packed up the tent, all their supplies, and were ready to go. Their lie was prepared, and Hermione simply had to go out and pretend that her parents had been murdered. That Death Eaters had tried to kill her.

That she had been kidnapped.

The irony of her kidnapper asking her to pretend to be kidnapped as part of a plan to deceive her best friend and numerous others wasn’t lost on her, and the last thing heard in the clearing before the crack of apparition signalling their departure was a short snort of amusement from Hermione.

**6th of July, 1995, Magnolia Road, Little Whinging, Surrey**

Harry's summer, some might say, had not been going well. But to Harry it had been going much the same as his last summer had, only with an extra layer of guilt and worry laid atop of it all. Compared to most, it was one of the better summers of his short life. Despite all the grinding of teeth, glares, and rude questions. If he didn't have a dark lord to worry about, or hadn’t watched someone he considered a friend die thirteen days ago, he might even call it his best.

The Dursleys didn’t care if he was in the house or not, except maybe to prefer him outside and elsewhere to inside and present. Going for long walks helped ease off the stress, and he was far more comfortable thinking about things— _not brooding_ —as far away from Privet Drive as he could get.

Which was how he had ended up sitting on a swing in the playground Dudley used to take kids lunch money in. Harry still remembered getting blamed for that and being thrown in the cupboard. Like most things Dudley did, Harry got the blame for the bad but none of the praise for the good.

These days Dudley still hung around the playground when he was home, but it was for different reasons. Acting far more… shady. Every time Harry had seen Dudley when he was out of the house he had ignored his cousin and remarkably been ignored in turn. Whatever Dudley was doing he seemed to think it was more important than harassing Harry, which used to be his favourite pastime. Curious as Harry might be at times he had far more important things to worry about that Dudley behaving oddly.

And that worry, he felt, was perfectly reasonable. As was his desire for information understandable considering the circumstances, but only Hermione had sent back more than a token letter—even when he had a nightmare-vision of Voldemort and tried to tell Dumbledore about it he had been brushed off. At least Hermione believed him, and outside of that mess with the Firebolt, which _may_ have partly been his fault, she had never let him down. Annoyed and forced him to study when he didn't want to, yes, but not let him down.

Hedwig had had the most peculiar expression on her face when she had brought Hermione's letter back though, which puzzled him. Hedwig was always so regal, so _unflappable,_ that seeing her confused was odd. And what could be confusing about Hermione? Outside of her being a girl; the Yule Ball had made things weird for a while. Truthfully, he still hadn't been sure what to do about noticing his best friend was female when they had left Hogwarts, and then she had gone and kissed him on the cheek.

Furrowing his brow at the thought, Harry realised he didn't understand girls. At all. He had wanted to go to the ball with Cho because she was pretty, but so were lots of girls. Hermione turning out to be one of them. Parvati had been pretty too, but he had been a terrible date for her, so maybe he should consider more than their looks? Although, dark lord being alive and moving, he knew he wasn't in the best position to be thinking about girls at all.

The sun had finally started to rise, signalling an end to Harry's early morning solitude. He preferred to be out in the dark, there were fewer people around to stare at him and his oversized and badly worn clothes. With the peace of the morning not likely to last much longer, and the need for sleep egging him on, Harry started heading back to number four. If he cooked up breakfast for his relatives he could probably get away with a bigger meal simply by eating bits and pieces while he made the food. So long as he didn’t do it after Vernon came down; his uncle had a sixth sense when it came to pinching food.

It would certainly be necessary; his relatives had enforced a Diet for Dudley, but still insisted on relative portions for Harry. So where Dudley got to eat a slightly undersized salad, Harry got to eat half a carrot and one or two leaves of lettuce. It wasn’t even as if the diet was working; Dudley still had his pocket money and access to stores which sold food, all he had to do was walk—as abominable an idea that was to Harry’s cousin, he would still do it if meant he could eat a ‘ _proper_ ’ meal.

Harry wanted nothing more than September to come sooner so he could return to Hogwarts where he got to eat more than leftovers and table scraps. He wasn’t starved, but the difference was academic with the way his relatives treated him.

His plan for getting a better-than-usual meal was suddenly interrupted by twin, very familiar, cries of "Harry!" coming from behind him. Surprised at what he could almost believe was Hermione's voice—in stereo at that—he stopped and turned around.

Only to experience one of the things which proved that it was, in fact, Hermione Granger who had called out his name. He was being hugged, quite forcefully, and his vision was being blocked by a frizzy mane of brown hair, hair that was shaking as his friend was sobbing into his shirt. Only... there were four arms wrapped around him?

"Hermione?" he asked somewhat uncertainly, "Is that you?"

"H-Harry! Th-they're d-dead!" she sobbed.

He tensed immediately, before pulling his arms around the... two crying girls. He had no idea why there were two. Or how there could be two. Or if that he wasn’t just hallucinating the second Hermione.

"They... they killed them, they're d-dead. My... my parents..."

"Tried to kidnap me... Harry..."

"Hermione, did they... did they hurt you? Who killed them?" Harry had no idea what he was doing, or why he was hallucinating two separate people with Hermione's voice talking to him at once, but he was going to try and comfort her. Them. Hermione... Hermiones? It was confusing and his bafflement was not aided by his sleep-deprived state. He was fairly sure he wasn’t dreaming, or at least he hadn’t been. Maybe he fell asleep on the swing? Dream or not what he needed to do was the same. Hermione—or Hermiones—crying on him demanded his attention.

With a little effort Harry managed to free his face from the mass of frizz and curls to see that there were indeed two of them. Both wearing the same clothes—some rather girlish blue pyjamas with rabbits on them—the same instantly recognisable hair, the same… well, if it wasn’t for the fact Hermione had told him she was an only child he would assume it was her twin. As he looked them over more carefully he realised that they were only wearing very _thin_ pyjamas and were pressed into him quite closely.

He hadn’t had many dreams about Hermione before, just a few after the Yule Ball and the Second Task, but if this wasn’t one he would be having a lot more. A whole lot more. Even with the seriousness of their words and the situation he could feel his cheeks heating up.

"No, no. I got away before they—" Harry was quickly discovering that two identical, sobbing, voices that were talking over each other and answering separate questions were quite confusing. "D-Death Eaters... they attacked my house, my parents—" much of what they said over the next minute or two is so jumbled he couldn't understand it, broken by sobs and confused by how they talk over each other. He got the idea that she—they— _Hermione —_ was attacked by Death Eaters, her parents had been killed and... she was kidnapped. A broken time-turner. And the rest didn't make sense to him.

"You're okay, you're safe." He whispered, thinking back to how she had tried to comfort him after he came back from the graveyard before the Moody-impostor dragged him off. "It's okay, I'm here, you're safe, Hermione." As they both squeezed tighter and sobbed into his shirt he couldn't tell if he was doing anything right. With how distraught they were he sincerely hoped he was dreaming, Hermione wasn't supposed to get hurt. Him wanting to talk to his friends wasn't worth them crying.

One managed to pull herself upright to look him in the eye—her own filled with tears—before burrowing her face into his neck. He felt the other running her hands all over him as if confirming he was real. While they were still crying they weren't doing so as fiercely, so he kept muttering what he believed were soothing words; telling them they were safe, that he was there for them, even as a lump of anger and guilt ran through his chest. 

He hadn't even thought that his friends might get attacked, that they might not be safe. That no one was protecting them— that no one else had thought of it—not even Dumbledore, or McGonagall who always talked about how impressive Hermione was—made him _angry_. Someone, somewhere, should have been keeping her safe, and they hadn't. _He_ should have been keeping her safe and he hadn't.

Immediately following those thoughts a woman in red robes he didn’t recognise shrugged off an invisibility cloak and grabbed the Hermione who didn’t have her face burrowed into his neck—he was still very confused by there being two of them—and pulled her away from him did not go down well. Instinctively he reached for the pocket where he kept his wand.

Meanwhile, the woman had begun speaking. "Get off of him and identify yourself, Harry you can't ju- OW!"

The woman yelped as Hermione—the one she had grabbed—head-butted her. Hard. Then the other Hermione who had still been clinging to him jumped the woman, snatching her wand away. Just as the first pulled back her arm, made a fist, and slammed it into the woman's face, breaking her nose with a sickly crunch—much like Hermione had to Draco Malfoy just over a year ago. The woman promptly fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, and Harry was surprised to hear a satisfied huff from _both_ Hermiones.

"It's like Fred and George." He muttered, "Except... it's Hermione." He realised they had heard him when both glance at him, one catching his eyes and holding them while the other—the one who had punched the woman—straddled their assailant and pinned her to the ground. The look he was given by them, and he still was being given by one, had him realise two Hermiones could either be a blessing or a curse. 

On the plus side, they would have more time to help him with schoolwork and talk. On the negative side, they had more time to make him do his schoolwork and force him to talk.

He was a bit conflicted about that.

He was a little less conflicted about his opinion on what they were wearing now that they weren’t so close that he couldn’t see them properly, and he couldn't help but blush. He could hope, however, that they thought he was blushing because they had noticed what he had said rather than because he was looking at them.

Harry quickly turned back to the woman—trying to pretend he hadn’t just imagined inappropriate things involving his best friend—who was not sporting bright red hair. He was pretty sure the womaned had brown hair moments before, so he was somewhat confused by that as well. He decided to ignore the strangeness, he was fairly used after four years at Hogwarts, and pointed his wand at her.

He was joined by one of the Hermiones pointing her own wand at the woman, but she was was shaking as she did so. The other had her pinned to the ground and hyperventilating. Surprisingly he was the calmest of the three of them. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if, when they met up with Ron, would they be the Golden Quartet? He shook his head to regain focus. He had been up far too long and was losing it a little. Even so, neither Hermione were in a state to ask questions, so he had to do it himself, no matter how bad he felt at the moment.

"Who are you and why did you try to grab Hermione?" He didn't even try to keep the anger out of his voice, although he hoped it didn't show just how tired he was.

He only received a groan in response from the woman, but the shaky Hermione seemed to let out a puff of relief as he took charge and the other Hermione. She decided to scream in the woman's face.

"ANSWER HIM!" He could hear her ragged breathing and saw her frame shaking. Even with his worry for his friend—friends—he still flinched from her shout, hearing Hermione get that loud usually ended with something bad happening to him or Ron. Deserved, usually, but still unpleasant.

"Tonks... I'm one of Harry's guards..." The woman moaned, "Blimey, I got taken out by a pair of teenagers..."

It took a moment to process the woman's words, but when he did, Harry nearly exploded.

"Guards? I have _Guards?!"_ To say he was angry to learn he had guards—especially after learning Hermione's parents were _dead_ —was an understatement. "If I have guards, why did something happen to Hermione?! If you've been here, why have I been left in the DARK and told NOTHING?!"

His rant was cut off by the free-standing Hermione—he briefly considered the fact he would need a way of differentiating them if this permanent—grabbing him and pulling him into another hug. This one was less bone-crushing than normal as he found his head pressed into her chest and her chin atop his head. "Harry, it's… please, don't get angry. I—" Her voiced hitched unpleasantly, "I—I _hate_ seeing you like this. Let her explain, please...” 

He could feel moisture dampening his scalp as she turned and pressed her cheek to the top of his head. She was crying again. He wrapped his arms back and wriggled his head free, dropping her own onto his shoulder. He was a little regretful as he did it—Hermione hugging him was nice—but he wanted to see the woman, Tonks, as he demanded answers.

“Well, can you explain? Hermione shows up, says her… her parents are dead, and you’re _my_ guard? I’m here because it’s _safe,_ right?!” He could tell he wasn’t too well at remaining calm, but so long as it didn’t upset Hermione—the Hermiones—he didn’t care. “And if it were _safe,_ I wouldn’t need guards. So that means you’re not a guard—You’re a watcher! To keep me from leaving!” He heard Hermione make a little squeak of surprise into his shoulder at that revelation, and then she squeezed him tightly. He wasn’t certain, but something told him that she was _proud_ , and that felt good.

What he planned to say next was cut off by three loud _Cracks_ echoing across the playground, drawing the attention of both Hermiones and himself. He was shocked to see Professor McGonagall, Moody and another unknown woman, all standing where Tonks must have come from.

Tonks, who had suddenly grappled Hermione while they were distracted, rolled herself and Hermione upright, then locked Hermione's arm behind her back which eliciting a yelp of pain from Harry's friend. Harry turned back to her, wand raised while mentally berating himself. He was an idiot; he let the flash entrance distract him and stopped paying attention. He let Hermione get hurt.

He glared at Tonks, ignoring the newcomers, and growled. “Let. Her. Go.”

Somewhat to his surprise, she did after glancing towards the professors and the new lady. Hermione glared at her as well, but she snatched up her wand and rushed back to Harry's side–standing at his side with his wand ready.

The other Hermione, who had been hugging him, let go and shifted to stand at his left. She still had tears running down her face. It was odd; they weren’t reaction entirely the same, but they _were_ both Hermione. He could tell. Even if one was getting angrier while the other was getting sadder, they were both undeniably Hermione. That alone continued to boggle his mind.

Professor Moody was the first of the newcomers to speak. “Well, this is an odd situation. Girl! Hm, _Girls!_ What was the first and last thing I taught you this year?” 

Harry was finding the way the world was trying to stack up and confuse him quite frustrating. The question didn’t make sense; Moody, the real one, hadn’t taught them anything—Harry snapped his wand to cover the Moody impersonator; there was no way the real one didn’t know he hadn’t taught them anything.

Fortunately for Harry, the Hermiones were slightly—significantly—more awake than he was. Before he could make a foolish mistake they spoke in disturbing synchronicity.  "Nothing and nothing, I've never met you before." Once they finished they looked at each other and both scrunched up their noses in thought.

Harry suddenly found it hard to continue focusing on the professors, as he was once again hugged from both sides by Hermiones and they were sobbing into his shirt.

"Perhaps we should put up some wards and take a seat. Give them a chance to explain themselves." McGonagall's no-nonsense voice cut across the sobbing, but didn't cause it to relent. Her suggestion did seem as good as any other though, and he at least trusted his stern head of house a little. After fixing Tonks with another glare Harry gave McGonagall a small nod.

Soon they were all sat on comfy chairs—not Moody, he was 'setting up a patrol pattern' or something—although after some more clinging and silent glaring, McGonagall upgraded Harry's seat to a comfy settee that fit him and both Hermiones. 

"Mister Potter," McGonagall address Harry before the girls, adding yet more to his confusion, “I am surprised to see you awake and out of your home so early in the day. Is there a reason for your behaviour?”

Harry couldn't help but frown. McGonagall was talking to him as if his behaviour, as if his choice to avoid staying in _that_ house, was _deplorable_. Maybe she thought it was, she, like Dumbledore, probably wanted him to stay in the house with his relatives. Believed they were getting along happily as only blood relations could. 

Feeling somewhat annoyed by her tone, he changed the target of his glare and decided to be obtuse. "Couldn't sleep." it wasn’t a lie; he stayed out as long as he could to exhaust himself, but it hardly answered her question. The look he received in response told him he had won the Annoy McGonagall prize for the day, but thankfully she didn’t press further. 

"Miss... Misses Granger," There was a flicker of either annoyance or confusion that crossed his head of houses' face when she spoke, which showed that she, just like Harry, had no idea what was going on with the duplicate Hermiones. "Can you prove which of you are, in fact, Miss Granger?" 

They shifted around at McGonagall's words, but Harry didn't look; he kept up his glare towards the Transfiguration Professor. It was insulting that she believed he wouldn't be able to tell his best friend from a fake. They were both Hermione.

“Both of them.” He stated flatly, daring McGonagall to protest. One of the Hermiones—the one on his right—wince as he spoke and dig deeper into his side, settling in underneath his arm.

“We can… prove it, Professor.” The other one said quietly. She then put her mouth to his ear and whispered into it “Books and Cleverness, but there are more important things… like friendship, bravery, and…” She paused and for a moment it seemed like she was done. “And… and love.” She choked back a sob as she began crying into Harry’s shirt again.

Harry finally had an answer to what she had tried to say back in first-year; he had wondered what came after alongside friendship and bravery in her mind. He still wasn't sure what she meant by it, though, since it had been so long ago.

The first one, Hermione-on-the-right, put her head by his other ear—seemingly having noticed what her other self had done. "I'm going to bed, before either of you come with another clever idea to get us killed—or worse, expelled." She also continued after a brief pause. "I didn't have the right priorities back then, did I?"

Harry glanced at her quickly and saw her face flushed red with embarrassment beneath the tear tracks running down her cheeks.

Tearing himself away from the sad-looking Hermione he returned to glaring at his professor. This was _her_ fault. "They both know things only Hermione should, neither is a fake."

A voice from behind Harry startled him into nearly throwing both girls off of the settee. "A likely story, hah! No, it's probably a batch of Polyjuice and some clever questioning." Moody had gotten behind them, his peg-leg having gone completely silent during his 'patrol'.

"Then why do they have the same wands? They're supposed to be unique, aren't they?"

Moody scoffed, "Sure. Just like a person's unique—takes a bit of effort, but anything can be mimicked."

Harry frowned at the man he had never met but felt like he knew—he hated that bloody impostor. "Then we'll just have to wait until Polyjuice would have worn off, won't we?" He nearly growled again, but managed to prevent himself from doing so.

"Aye. In the meantime, they can try to explain _how_ there's two of 'em. We need to hear it if by some means they aren't under polyjuice." He stomped off back onto his 'patrol', walking in circles around the playground. His peg-leg mysteriously making sound again as it impacted the tarmac.

Hermione-on-the-right shifted slightly, pulling herself away from him with a sniffle. "Okay, I... I was the one who, who duplicated. So I'll try to..." She sniffled again, so Harry stuffed his wand in his pocket and grabbed her hand—it seemed like the right sort of thing to do. When she gave him a little smile he knew he had done it right, and decided to do the same for Hermione-on-the-left. He suppressed a wince and decided he would never tell her, either of them, that it felt like his hands were being painfully crushed. Something had given Hermione a monstrously strong grip.

"I'll explain," Hermione-on-the-right said, much more confidently. "It was... I was awake at home. Harry's letter two days ago... it was worrying, so I couldn't sleep until much too late in the night. I was reading when I heard a crash downstairs, my parents..." she choked back a sob before she continued. "they, they woke up and went downstairs. When I heard shouting I sneaked a look down the stairs into the hall and, and... I saw a man. In black robes and silver a silver mask, he... he..." Her voice broke but she managed to force out the words. "h-he kill-ed m-my d-dad. Us-ed th-e killin-g c-urse.",

She didn't get better as she continued, "Mum, she-she, s-he was- the... cruic-cru-cruicatus." She stopped and buried herself in Harry's side again, sobbing openly. 

Both of them were sobbing into his sides, and somewhat distractedly Harry mused that he needed to wash the shirt quite badly after this, before shaking his head and realising how insensitive his thoughts were. He looked over his assembled... guests; McGonagall had her stern face, as always, but had gone a startling shade of white. Tonks was looking surprisingly professional—and had fixed her broken nose at some point, which Harry was strangely annoyed by—the other woman was just looking at the three of them judgmentally, as if Hermione was at fault for being attacked somehow.

He felt a twinge from his scar and a surge of anger, Hermione had just lost her parents and this _woman_ was _daring_ to look at her like she had done something _wrong._

No one spoke, but Harry's glare of anger and swell of magic filled the air with his clear displeasure without need for words. 

After a minute the Hermiones crying slowed down and Hermione-on-the-left had calmed down enough to speak. "Um, I... after, after mum," she gripped Harry's arm tightly, squeezing it as hard as she could. "I... I tried to run. Jumped out my, out of my window into a tree— and... there were, there..." she was shaking as she continued, "Two. There were two of them. Death Eaters. In the, my, garden." Harry had never heard Hermione so inarticulate before, and it worried him. "When I..."

"When I—" Hermione-on-the-right picked up as the other paused. "—landed they both grabbed me and... disapparated. I, I didn't hear—not properly, but... they, they wanted to... to _have fun_ with me before killing me. I was... in a cell. They took my wand and bag and shut the door on me." 

She seemed to have gotten into stride and was going back into lecture mode—something Harry found comfortingly normal. 

"One stayed to keep an eye on me at first, the other made him promise to, um, not start without him." She shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut, but didn't stop talking, "Then there was a–a– _crash._ He left to investigate. I don't know why, but they hadn't locked the cell? I got out and grabbed my wand and... and this." 

She reached under her pyjama top and pulled out something Harry and McGonagall both recognised. Harry simply stared, but McGonagall audibly gasped. She had a time-turner, a rather old, battered and broken looking time-turner. The metal was warped in places, the metal rings that suspended the sand-bottle twisted, broken, and disconnected. 

"I... I used it to try to escape. I thought to run at first. If I ran before they even arrived I would have been safe, but... it only went back a few minutes. I was barely in the next room when I heard them apparate in, and myself get thrown in the cell. I stumbled into a table and made the crash I had heard, so I– I hid. When the first one came out I, I used... I used _Diffindo_ on him." She curled up into Harry, breathing hard.

Harry could guess what had happened. Flitwick had warned them that while not traditionally a curse, the severing charm can be lethal if used improperly, or in this case, properly.

They waited patiently for Hermione to speak again, but she didn’t. She kept herself tucked into Harry’s side and breathing hard as wished he knew what to do. He was hugging her; that’s what Hermione did, right? Was there something more he should be doing? He couldn’t whisper to her, not when she needed to explain. He didn’t know what to do and it was frustrating.

Eventually, Hermione-on-the-left started talking again, having decided that her counterpart wasn't going to continue. "When I used the time-turner it... it just sort of felt like a, a tug. Like something had pulled on my magic. It vanished and left me standing there. I knew I wouldn't get a better chance anyway so I... I followed the second Death Eater as quietly as I could—there were no windows and no other doors—and... I saw him standing over his partner, who was on the floor bleeding out from his... from his neck. I didn't, I didn't think. I just tackled him from behind. When I did, she—" she gestured at her duplicate weakly, "—saw that and she used the banishing charm on a chair. It hit him in the chest and he went down to the ground."

"We took their wands," she fished around in a pocket and dropped two wands onto the ground, staring at one of them longer than the other. "and then... I, I obliviated the one who, who hadn't died." She lifted her head and gave a look Harry couldn't quite place at Tonks. "The one she, um, I? Killed, he, he had robes on underneath his... uniform. Red ones. Exactly like hers." She pointed at Tonks, accusingly.

"Buggering hell, there was a mole in the Aurors?!" Tonks burst out, before shrinking under a reproving glare from McGonagall.

"Miss Granger, continue. Please." McGonagall said, with a tinge of worry in her voice.

"Right. After that I, well we, spent a bit of time just... talking. We don't know how it happened, except the time-turner must have been broken, but we knew we couldn't stay. We left and... we were near here. In Little Whinging, near the train station. Some kind of Death Eater safehouse, I think."

Moody piped up from nearby again as soon as she said that. "Safehouse? Girly, tell me where it is. Now."

She turned to look at him, blinking away some of the tears she kept crying, "Um, At the far end of Magnolia Road - number five-hundred and thirty-two. It was... broken looking, muggle repelling charms I'm guessing– I don't–"

"Thanks, girl. I'll check it out shortly." Moody said briskly.

"After we got out and found out where we were we came here. We were..."

"Distressed," Hermione-on-the-right said, her voice hoarse from crying.

"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall started, "if we can validate these... events, we will. We are approaching the expiry of any polyjuice, and if Alastor—"

"Mad-Eye, Minny," Mad-Eye said, his eye spinning about as if in jest.

McGonagall scoffed at his friendly tone. "If _Mad-Eye_ , goes to take a look at this... safe house and finds your version of events accurate, along with the lack of polyjuice we will have reason enough to believe your claims."

No one said anything more until the woman—Emmaline, according to Professor McGonagall—mentioned that an hour had passed, and neither Hermione could be under polyjuice. Mad-Eye also went and came back, saying that Snape, of all people, had gone with him to the safe house and found Corban Yaxley dead, and Gregory Goyle senior unconscious and drooling from an overpowered Obliviate.

"The girl did good work on them both. Even if the Ministry lets them go Yaxley's dead and Goyle's going to be in St. Mungos for a while." Mad-Eye looked at each Hermione, seemingly with pride. "You did well getting the drop on Yaxley, he must've gotten lax in his old age." Neither of the Hermiones seemed particularly proud, or happy to be reminded they had killed someone—and Harry realised they had watched someone die, just like he had with Cedric.

He pulled them a little closer, almost nodding off while entangled in their embrace on the settee.

"So," Mad-Eye said, "Not Polyjuice, their story matches the evidence, and there was a mark for 'permissible magic' at her house, put out yesterday to stop the Trace triggering. It _seems_ " He stressed the word as if it were a curse. "like they're being honest. Could still be spies though."

"Constant vigilance..." Hermione-on-the-right sleepily murmured, which got a barking laugh in response from the paranoid ex-Auror.

McGonagall had gotten up and dispelled all of the seats other than the settee before Harry realised he had nodded off again. Both Hermiones were missing from his sides; one was being held by Emmaline and looked defeated, the other appeared to be trying to scream her head off, despite magical ropes tying her down and the silencing charm that must have been placed upon her.

"What?" He growled, "What are you doing to them?!"

"Mister Potter, they can't stay here—so we're taking them back to Headquarters. There will be space for them there." McGonagall answered.

Harry didn't care that it made sense, that he couldn't keep them with him at the Dursleys, so he Snarled at his professor. "Did you ask them first? Or did you just–" He was interrupted by a Crack as Emmaline vanished with the defeated looking Hermione. "You didn't did you! You're kidnapping them just like the Death Eaters! I can't believe this, you abandon her to Voldemort—" McGonagall flinched, both from his accusations and his use of Tom Riddle's assumed name. "—and then kidnap her! Them! If you're taking them, you can take me too!"

"No, Mister Potter. As I'm sure Dumbledore has informed you, you need to remain with your... family." McGonagall said, but he can hear the distaste in her voice as she mentioned his relatives. He will never consider them his family. "Miss Granger, if you calm down I will let you say goodbye to Mister Potter. You are coming with us either way, but this childishness is beneath you." Her stern persona was back and reprimanding Hermione for being upset.

Even as Hermione settled down and nodded Harry seethed, when she was unsilenced her words made him happier - but didn't cut through his anger. "Harry, I promise I'll keep in contact- Letters, I'll find a payphone if I have to. Just... stay safe. Please." She was crying, yet again, "I... I can't lose you. Not now. Not you as well."

A few moments later McGonagall had pulled her upright, drawn her close and apparated away. Leaving Harry alone in the playground with Tonks, the only one to stay behind. He gave her a baleful glare, before declaring "I hate you. My friend was hurt and you, you just!" He turned away, lacking the words to properly express himself.

He stared briefly at the settee he had sat with Hermione on, before turning and stomping his way back to number four Privet Drive. He had breakfast to make for his relatives, otherwise he wouldn't get to eat that day. He should eat, even if he was just going to sleep through the rest of the day after this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you might suspect, there will be more of those visions as we go along. There are several explanations I came up with as to why they happened when I decided to do this, but I have settled on a single one so feel free to try to guess it.
> 
> Secondary guessing game: Which Hermione during Harry’s POV is Future!Hermione?


	4. Ch. IV - Hermione Gets Kidnapped. Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: In answer to who was future Hermione from last time... it was Hermione-on-the-right and the one who was silenced by McGonagall. She had the more extreme reactions and was the one leading the scenario.
> 
> Many thanks to Tyrannic_Puppy for providing comments and beta work on this chapter.
> 
> Edit: 21/10/19 rewritten to be more up to date with my current style of writing and fixed most of the errors.   
> Finally posting the rewritten version on 31/03/2020  
> Yes I'm being intentionally inconsistent with the note.
> 
> Disclaimer: Does everyone go to Dumbledore to answers over specialists who would actually know more? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.

**6th of July, 1995, Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

Being apparated by Mia had been unpleasant, but Hermione had just learnt that she was remarkably good at side-along apparition. At least compared to Emmaline. So much better, in fact, that she was once again vomiting just as she had the first time she had experienced it. Emmaline Vance, she decided, was not particularly skilled at apparition. The woman hadn't even let her say goodbye to Harry, popping away as soon as he stirred from his impromptu nap.

Mia had said they would probably do something like that, try and steal them away from Harry without him noticing as if to imply they were abandoning him. She wasn't sure Professor McGonagall would do that, but apparently, she would if she was told to. Hearing her tell them that Dumbledore had said Harry needed to be left with his family to heal, and didn't need his friends as distractions, cut into her respect for her stern head of house, badly.

Professor Moody had seemed disapproving as well, and he _would_ know better, right? As an experienced Auror, he must have dealt with a lot of people going through grief or blaming themselves for something they couldn't prevent. Even so, clearly he didn't think it important enough to go against Dumbledore for. 

Hermione finished voiding her stomach and slowly stood back up;  she couldn't help clutching her arms around herself and sniffling as she shivered. Without Harry's comforting presence the Elixir of Sorrows she had taken was drawing her back into a false depression. They had needed it, neither could have faked the grief of losing their parents properly without it and unlike stronger draughts, it induced a more natural sorrow. Mia had said it was one of their Ancestor's, Hector Dagworth-Granger, potions, one he had meant to be used to help actors fill their roles more realistically—but it was far easier to make use of faster-acting charms. As a result, it had been relegated to the vaults and never popularised enough to enter common texts.

Professor Moody's magical eye would have spotted such charms, so they had resorted to the potion. Which, as she leaned onto the iron fence of number 11 and cried quietly, she lamented would last several more hours. And they would need to take more over the next few weeks just to sell it properly.

Frankly, she was wondering if it was worth it. She was trembling, crying, sniffling, and reliving so many things in her life that had her upset. But seeing Harry, how he rallied despite his hesitance and uncertainty and tried to comfort them and help them… It was worth it for him. This had been their best idea for having both of them accepted, and it would be worth it to help Harry. Hermione remained certain of that even as she slipped back to the ground and hugged her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

She heard the tell-tale _crack_ of more people appearing but didn't feel it was worth the effort to look up and see what was happening. Instead, she was going over the details of what had really happened during the night. She hadn't been there when her house was attacked, that had been Mia's role. But she had been present and stunned Goyle and Yaxley after Mia ripped them away via Apparition, waiting in the Death Eater safe house. 

Why did the Death Eaters even have a safe house in Little Whinging? It had been unused for years, but it wasn’t _that_ old. The thought of how close they had been to Harry, that they had known where he lived all along, it only made her feel worse. If that was even possible.

The day had been one string of one terrible thing after another: she had seen the vision of Neville, of killing him and _knowing_ deep down he had betrayed her _violated_ her somehow. Sweet—uncaring—Neville had done something to make her future hate him enough to kill him with his own plants.

Then Mia had forced her to watch Yaxley die, to ensure the story held better if they questioned her experiences. He was the one who had killed Mum in the original timeline, or so Mia said. Even so, she had wanted to argue that they should let him be captured, put on trial, and face justice. Only… he had been wearing his Auror red robes, even his badge, underneath his Death Eater uniform. He was one of the people that should have been protecting her, protecting everyone, and he served Voldemort—Tom Riddle— _willingly_.

It made her sick. Watching him die had twisted nastily in her gut, but him dying, when his last breath finally left him, she felt relieved. She shouldn't have felt relieved someone was dead. She was upset by that, she knew it was wrong. Someone had died—even if they were a terrible person, unrepentant and evil, she should want to see them dead.

Frustratingly, Hermione didn't even know if what little upset she felt from Yaxley's death was real thanks to the potion. It was too intermixed with everything else, a general depression she felt about everything. The ground was cold and unpleasant, she was too close to her vomit and she could still taste it, she had been taken from Harry, she was stuck in slippers and pyjamas on an uncharacteristically cold July morning, that she was stuck _waiting_ for something to happen and unable to do anything useful.

It was the potions fault. Nearly everything was making her upset, from the most trivial to things that actually mattered. Except for two things: that Harry had tried so hard to support them, accepted their strange new situation without question, and that he had noticed she was a girl. It was sad how long it had taken him to notice, but he had. He hadn’t been particularly subtle about it, and his blush had been cute.

An arm grabbed Hermione and pulled her upright "Up, girly," Professor Moody thrust a scrap of parchment in front of her face. "Read it and memorise it. Quickly girl." 

 _The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._  

She looked about; there was no number twelve. She had been leaning on the fence of number eleven and the next house over was number thirteen; glancing across the street she only saw a park. Further up the road was number _fourteen._

Which was wrong. If the even numbers weren't on the other side of the road then there should be a number twelve; the houses were all the same size so they hadn't been combined. So looked at the spot number eleven and thirteen joined; she knew the house, number twelve, was hidden somehow—Mia hadn't been able to explain it, or tell her where the house was, or even anything about it. She had always referred to it as ‘ _Headquarters’_ or as ‘Sirius’ house’. Which now obviously meant the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, although she didn’t know why Sirius would have a house in a dingy and dirty part of London.

She concentrated on the fact she _knew_ something was there as she glared at the join between the houses, focusing on what she had just read, and suddenly a house expanded to fill the space between number eleven and thirteen. One moment it wasn’t there, the next it was. She jumped back, bumping into the ex-Auror who still had a hold on her arm.

"Hah! She didn't even need to be told, got it on her own. You're good, girly." He said smugly.

"Good? With how they attacked Tonks I'm wondering what they're teaching them at Hogwarts these days." Emmaline voiced her disapproval, "Brawling like common muggles, you've let standards slip Minerva."

And now Hermione felt insulted. And upset. Seeing Mia punch Tonks had felt good, she didn't have the right to pull her away from Harry, so she wouldn't feel guilty about that. Maybe she felt upset for her, it was hard to tell. She sniffled briefly as a brief flash of frustration towards the potion was buried under another wave of misery.

"Emmaline, she was, and is, understandably distraught. Reacting to being assaulted—" Professor McGonagall replied, only to get cut off.

"Assaulted! She's the one who assaulted an Auror!" Emmaline’s bravery in arguing with Professor McGonagall of all people would have impressed Hermione if she hadn't already decided she disliked the woman.

"An appropriate response to an unknown attacker, Emmaline. She acted to protect the boy." Professor Moody had cut across both of them, and neither seemed to want to argue with him on the subject. He walked up and tapped his wand on the door, opening it. "Girls, head on inside. Keep quiet as you go in, the portraits are a nasty bunch if you wake them."

"I will be heading home since I am not wanted here." Emmaline huffed, then vanished with a _crack._

Professor Moody just grunted at her departure and muttered something under his breath about Emmaline not be suitable for taking care of kids.

Mia clutched at Hermione's arm as they stepped inside, holding her tightly—she may not have vomited, but she seemed to be even worse off than Hermione was. She was trembling and having trouble staying upright.

"You okay?" Hermione croaked, wincing at how sore her throat was from all the crying.

Mia leaned her head on Hermione’s shoulder and whispered into her ear. “He’s… he’s safe. Harry’s safe.” 

Mia abruptly pressed all of her weight into Hermione, forcing Hermione to catch her before she fell to the ground. Unprepared for Mia's near-collapse Hermione staggered into the wall with a thump.

"Watch it!" Professor Moody hissed, then gestured for them to follow him. Hermione just wanted to find a bed to crawl into so she could sleep, crying was exhausting. She barely registered the dark and dreary state of the corridor as she half-carried Mia but did notice the presence of Molly Weasley and Sirius Black in the kitchen she was lead to. Partly because Mia started crushing her arm at the sight of the woman.

"Oh, you poor dear! How could this have happened? Dumbledore will have everything resolved and your little issue fixed up soon enough, don't you worry." Mrs Weasley cried as she rushed over to give them both a big hug. 

Hermione felt Mia tense at her side and pushed her off as gently as she could, taking the hug alone. She might not believe Mrs Weasley would ever hurt her, but that didn't change the fact that Mia was terrified of the woman.

"I don't know if anything is wrong, Mrs Weasley." Hermione protested weakly. She didn't much like Mrs Weasley's hugs, she always seemed to be trying to smother whoever she was holding.

"Don't you worry dear. It'll all get sorted," Mrs Weasley let go and looked Hermione from head to toe with a growing frown. "Dumbledore's already looking into arranging your custody. Can't let you get lost in the Muggle system, can we? Now, what _are_ you wearing?"

Hermione flushed with embarrassment. Her light summer pyjamas might be acceptable nightwear, but she had been parading about in them. Even in front of Harry. "My pyjamas, Mrs Weasley."

"Why! I'll sort you out some real clothes, don't you worry." She then looked over Mia, who was leaning on the wall and hyperventilating. Hermione wasn't quite sure what exactly the expression Mrs Weasley was wearing meant, but it wasn't a happy one. "Now, why don't you tell me everything, and we can get to fixing this accident you've caused yourselves?" 

Hermione ignored Mrs Weasley’s question for a moment to look at the others in the room; she felt exhausted and utterly unready for what appeared to be another interrogation. Professor McGonagall was examining Mia and casting a few spells, a mild cheering charm and a few medical diagnostic spells that Hermione recognised. Professor Moody looked on at the scene, seeming a little bored. Sirius it seemed was uncertain as to what he should do, glancing between the two of them, his brow furrowed under his shaggy fringe and his lips pressed together tightly.

"I think it would be best if we let them rest before any further questions, don't you Alastor?" Professor McGonagall said, frowning in concern.

"Aye. Got enough out of them back with the boy, some sleep before they get poked and prodded will do them some good. Not much point asking anymore until someone who knows more can check them over either, so we'll be waiting on Albus."

Mrs Weasley frowned at her questioning being denied but gave a curt nod.

"Sirius, you have one of the family bedrooms cleared for guests, correct?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Right. We cleared the master bedroom up first, but I've got my old one back now, so they can have it. The rest are filled with so many old trinkets its been slow going getting them liveable, whoever visits will have to rough it so the girls can have some space." He nodded to Professor McGonagall before turning to meet Hermione's eyes. "I hoped our next meeting would be better Hermione, er, but for what it's worth, you're... both, welcome in my..." He looked about grimly. "house, for as long as you need a place to stay." 

Sirius sounded more resigned than welcoming, but rather than feeling unwelcome Hermione was reminded of Mia telling her that his home was a prison to Sirius, one he had felt abandoned in. "Thank you. Can someone... show us our room then?" Hermione wobbled on her feet and stepped next to Mia to lean against the wall with her. 

"I'm sorry, Misses... Hermione, but I still have work back at the castle and need to inform Albus." Professor McGonagall apologised and gave them a sad look before striding over to the fireplace and using the Floo to vanish in a puff of ash.

"Right. Let's get you, ah, two to bed." Sirius got up and cut Mrs Weasley off before she could make her own offer. They left and climbed the stairs out of the kitchen and up made their way up to the third floor.  "For what it's worth, I told them you would need a guard too. You're very publicly tied to Harry, if it wasn't this..." He grimaced. "I hate to say it, but you may have gotten off lucky." He avoided looking at them as he opened a door to a large bedroom, decorated in the same blacks and browns as everything else Hermione had seen so far.

"Don't try and use your ensuite bathroom, it hasn't been fixed yet. There's one downstairs, the door with the blue sign. Don't open any of the others." Sirius turned towards them, opened his mouth to say something, but stopped and shook his head. After a moment he plastered a smile onto his face. "Get some rest, Hermione. Both of you."

After he was gone Mia took a seat on the lone bed in the room, "I... Thank you, I didn't– I couldn't– if she had..." she tried to speak, but couldn't get anything out and started gasping for air and alternating between sobbing uncontrollably and stopping breathing altogether.

After a few moments' hesitation, Hermione sat down next to her, gently lowered Mia so that she was lying on the bed, and then held her tightly as they both cried out the remainder of the Elixir of Sorrows and the stress from the night's events. She had to remind Mia to keep breathing several times when she stopped and didn't start again on her own, but was too tired to offer any real comfort beside her presence.

–oOoOo–

Hermione awoke to Mia quivering in her arms, shaking and gasping for air, whimpering as if being tortured. She squeezed the other girl tighter. "Mia? Mia, what's wrong?” Hermione tried shaking her doppelganger awake, but she didn’t respond. “It’s alright, Mia. There’s nothing here, no one to hurt you, Harry’s safe. I’m here…”

Mia’s whimpering quietened as Hermione continued reassuring her, but she didn’t stop quivering. Uncertain what more she could do Hermione detangled herself from Mia and turned her doppelganger’s head towards her. Mia’s face was pulled into a grimace and her eyes screwed tightly shut.

“Mia…” Hermione shook her head; Mia was just a nickname, it wasn’t her doppelganger’s actual name. “Hermione. Hermione Jane Granger.” Trying to imitate her mother as best she could Hermione made her voice as authoritative as she could. “Look at me, Hermione. Open your eyes and _look at me.”_

Saying her own name had almost made her stumble, she had never met anyone with the same name and calling someone else by it felt strange. She had been right to use it, however, as saying her full name had worked. Mia had stirred slightly, twitching as if to respond before taking a gasping breath and retreating back into herself.

“Hermione Jane Granger, Look. At. Me. _Now.”_ Hermione ordered as she grabbed Mia’s shoulders and held her in place.

Brown eyes snapped open, darting around in a blind panic before being caught by Hermione’s own eyes and latching on. As they stared at each other Mia’s breathing began to slow down, going from short and frantic gasping for air to deep lungfuls that she expelled slowly.

It took far too long for Mia’s breathing to even out properly, to no longer have that forced quality of someone intentionally and forcefully controlling each and every breath. And during that time she hadn’t looked away once, rarely blinking and only occasionally drifting out of focus before snapping back again.

The whole affair had deeply unnerved Hermione. She knew about panic attacks, about anxiety. But while she worried fiercely it had never been a possibility to her that _she_ could experience such a thing. Seeing another version of herself breaking down so completely as to be unable to breath was terrifying. 

No matter how scary it was to witness she couldn't just walk away. Mia needed her, and as such, Hermione pulled her doppelganger into a one-armed hug and started running her other hand through the time-lost girl's hair, lightly untangling it as she went. Mia turned and clung tightly to Hermione's pyjamas, fisting the shirt so tightly it seemed the lightweight top might tear.

She had never done anything like this before, not even when playing. All Hermione could do was imitate what she remembered her mother doing to comfort her as a child.

She hadn’t been drawn into Mia’s nightmare this time, for which she was thankful. As curious as she was she wasn’t looking forward to another experience like that. It did bring up the question of _why_ it had happened then and not now, as Mia had been in much the same state both times. Was there something special about the dream Mia had of… Neville?

She shivered thinking about it, feeling a wave of unease run down her spine that she _knew_ wasn’t entirely her own. That _vision_ had implanted emotions in her and she didn’t like it. She couldn’t blame Mia for that, however, she had been asleep in a nightmare when it happened. She hadn’t planned it. If she had it would have been about the Weasleys rather than Neville.

Small comfort that that was.

“Whatever it was, it came from Mia, so these are her feelings… or rather, those of our older self?” The conclusion was obvious, although how it came about and why it was happening were far less clear. Hermione noticed Mia tense briefly at her name and filed it away. She had never liked nicknames, but Mia _had_ offered to be called that; maybe there was more to it.

It felt like hours later, and Hermione had begun to doze, by the time Mia finally relaxed, let go of Hermione and began to speak. 

"Hermione?" Mia's voice was remarkably controlled considering what she had just gone through. "I want to thank you. I didn't expect to... I wasn't expecting to react this badly to Harry or– or... _her._ " Mia smiled awkwardly up at Hermione. “Thank you, really, I… I needed that.”

She looked down and flushed slightly. “It also felt pleasant to just… be held. I have barely touched anyone in so long, and… and…” She shook her head, sending her hair bouncing. “I needed a hug. And you… brushing my hair was nice too. I felt like purring a little; do you think we still have any cat in us?” 

Hermione grimaced as she was reminded of that terrible part of her second year; alone and holed up in the hospital wing not knowing if she would ever fully return to normal or not. “Madam Pomfrey said—”

"That there would be no lingering side effects, and that any symptoms we believe we are feeling are just psychological echoes left behind by the strictly temporary change."

"... Yes." Hermione frowned; she didn't like being interrupted, but Mia had literally taken the words out of her mouth. Word for word what she would have said had been parroted back at her. Knowing that Mia was correct didn't make her feel much better, it was still a little eerie. "Can we not turn into the new Weasley twins, please?" She had no desire to live life finishing another person's sentences, or for them to be finishing hers. Dealing with the Weasley twins was frustrating and she didn't want to mimic them.

"Oh, sorry," Mia covered her mouth as her eyes opened wide. "I hadn't… We should avoid that, the world doesn't need more pranksters." She paused, worrying her lip lightly as she gave Hermione a curious look. "Although, there is cause for several of them this year if we can think of some that are appropriate. Umbridge, the new defence professor, is the worst yet."

"Surely they can find someone competent for once, or at least better than a... an impostor. Or possessed like Quirrel was. It's our O.W.L year!" She _needed_ a proper professor again! Even with Riddle back and everything else, she had to do well on her O.W.L exams!

Mia looked at Hermione accusingly as if to remind her of their track record with teachers, and Hermione's hopes sank. All she wanted was _one_ year with a competent Professor who didn’t have problems of their own; Professor Lupin had come closest, but he had gone missing for the week of the full moon and left them with _Snape_ of all people, who couldn’t teach at all.

"No, she…" Mia paused and sighed resignedly. "Umbridge doesn't teach. Instead, she'll assign a book for the class to read and tells everyone that no, we don't need to cast any spells before our exams to pass the practical. Even worse, the book is completely useless, but we will have to study it just so we don't get in trouble in class. There's no point touching it otherwise.

"I am going to buy three copies of all the books Professor Lupin recommended for his O.W.L year, for us and Harry, and… and I have some idea of what the O.W.L examination for defence will be on." Mia flushed with embarrassment. " _She,_ that is we, um, we got _Exceeds_ _Expectations_ in defence… our only non- _Outstanding_ mark. She left me notes to help me beat that.”

“Wait, you… you’re going to cheat?” Hermione gaped at Hermione in shock. She _didn’t_ cheat, it just wasn’t something she considered. “I… I’ll take the books but—”

“No! No, I don't know what the questions will be, but the standard O.W.L exam for DADA, well, standardised.” Mia snapped, “And I know how to get a copy of last years exam.” 

“Okay, that’s not so bad. Do you think Harry will read the textbooks? I’m not sure they’re the best gift for him, he barely reads at all.”

“They aren’t going to be a gift, he’s paying for them himself; he needs the books to learn. And he _does_ read plenty, just not when… _Ron_ is around. He named Hedwig after someone he read about in his History of Magic textbook before first year, he read all of them completely.

“He just doesn’t have our memory, and then he became friends with _Him_ and stopped reading because he had a friend who occupied all of his time.” Mia smiled wanly and laughed. “Maybe if I— _we_ had found him first he would have been a bookworm like we are? Anyway, he is excellent at Defence Against the Dark Arts and enjoys it, and Charms, the most. Everyone who got better than an A on their O.W.Ls was in the group he tutored; it’s not something I’m getting him without some thought.”

Hermione took a moment to process what she had just been told; Harry, teaching. “He tutored? How many?” She knew he was _good_ at what he did, that he was a brilliant wizard. She had always known that. But he so rarely applied himself, and _never_ willingly put himself forward into the centre of attention, so the idea of him teaching was outlandish. It did, however, bring a smile to her face. There was something very pleasant about Harry being the one to teach her something for once.

“He did!” Mia beamed brightly, almost vibrating with excitement. “He tutored nearly thirty of us in the basic combat spells and defensive charms. He even got more than half of us to cast a Patronus! I received that memory directly and I remember being so confused, I— _she_ only managed it when she thought of Harry and their friendship, but the potions had stopped her from feeling it was truly important. The emotion was buried, stifled, but it was still real.

“It isn’t like any other spell we ever cast. It’s not about precision, pronunciation, or focus. It needs raw power, emotion, and intent. We should be able to do it much easier this time around if we want to, we didn’t have much to be happy about when we were learning it. Not anything that was real, anyway.”

“You’re saying we cast the Patronus charm at sixteen? It’s supposed to be beyond N.E.W.T level! I know Harry managed it at thirteen, but he’s Harry. Most Aurors have trouble with it and you’re saying we managed?” Hermione didn’t entirely believe it. She could cast years ahead of her classmates and always had, but this wasn’t a simple charm or hex. She wasn’t that powerful, surely.

"We're not magically weak you know," Mia said, rolling her eyes. "In fact, other than Harry I think only Neville matches us for power in our year, maybe the year above and definitely below too. It's part of why we manage new spells so easily, we don't just understand them like many of the Ravenclaws do, we also have enough power to push the spell until we get it.

"My—our problem with DADA was just that we're not very instinctive. We stop and think, which is terrible when you have to react immediately. I've had training for it so I'm better now, but you don't have the initiative or reflexes to excel at DADA.

“And… and we never had to have our willpower tested like Harry did. He’s been suffering for so long the Imperius is just another voice to him; I don’t know how to change that for us.” Mia sighed loudly, then broke out into a grin. “At least we’re not Ronald and _extremely_ vulnerable to spells like that. Remember his skipping?” 

Hermione laughed at the memory. Ron had been embarrassed for weeks from that incident alone and always got so defensive if anyone brought it up. “Yes, I remember it. He wasn’t happy after it wore off, was he?” She sighed, thinking back, he had been jealous of Harry for shaking it off when he had succumbed so easily. It may have even contributed to his abandonment of Harry at the start of the tournament, now that she considered it. 

Hermione shook her head, why Ron had done it didn’t matter, it was in the past now. “What did you mean by we lack initiative? We go out and do things on our own, we’re always ahead of our classes. I don’t understand what you meant; we don’t just wait around.”

"I meant in a fight." Mia waved her dismissively. "We have good study habits, excellent ones really, but we overthink things. When you're attacked you can't stop to plan out how to fight back, you have to know how to respond. At first, I always tried to come up with a perfect solution, something complicated that would work brilliantly, but it rarely worked out.

"Complicated means there's more ways for it to fail, the more mistakes you can make. It gets you hurt. The simpler something is the less chance something can go wrong." As Hermione started to frown, Mia waved her hands placatingly. "It's not all bad! We're better at least one thing due to how we think."

“Oh?”

"Chain casting. Having a set of spells you know work well in sequence, both from how they're pronounced and the wand motions flowing into each other. Harry never got past a few simple chains, no matter how much he practised. He was always too spontaneous for them, but his style worked anyway.

"I–no, I mean she, future me–you. Us." Mia shook her head. "That's still confusing… She could come up with new chains so quickly and knew the counter to every spell that someone could throw at her. There were _dozens_ of books on different shielding and counter charms that she had left behind. That she could read and counter any spell sent at her, then chain three or more back in the same amount of time… it was master dueller level. On par with Professor Flitwick in some areas, but not everywhere.”

Hermione nodded along eagerly; she could see how spell chaining would work in her head already, there were a lot of simple charms that didn’t need much movement and would let you get back into position for a Stupefy or Protego without stopping casting.

Hermione pulled out her wand and started waving it through a few options for a possible chain; _Langlock_ only needed a single flick upward, whereas _Bombarda_ needed a downward sweep into an abrupt flick and jab, they seemed like they would go together well.

While Hermione waved her wand Mia got up and pulled out the expanded bag she had purchased for them. It wasn't an heirloom like Mia had marked it, but that was more believable than a young witch managing to buy it within a few days of returning from Hogwarts. The number of lies they were telling weighed on Hermione, she didn't like deceiving people she should be trusting.

At least the bag meant they had kept most of their possessions, there was no telling what the Death Eaters would do to the house in their absence. Mia had saved most of their books, and all their more precious items had left the country along with their parents, but some things had to have been left behind.

It would be easy to excuse their collection being story in the bag by saying it was new at they had been playing with it; the novelty alone would have seen her trying to fit her entire book collection inside, and a fair bit of her wardrobe. There was no possibility of it being practical in the long term, but for a few days at least it would've been fun. They would still need to get a second set of school supplies: uniforms, cauldrons, telescope, and such.

They could probably share their textbooks. Maybe. If they planned out doing their homework probably. Not that it would be worth the hassle compared to just buying a second set of books, or borrowing Harry’s.

Hermione put down her wand and got up to help Mia sort their possessions.  “How are you feeling, Mia?” She was a little worried that Mia was putting a facade and faking being alright. She had settled down as far as Hermione could easily tell, but she had just had a panic attack, or at least something close to it. 

Not for the first time since meeting her counterpart, Hermione wished she had a few books on psychology and trauma to read, it was clear that something seriously wrong with Mia. She hadn't stopped to consider Mia's issue initially, focusing more on herself, but they had become more obvious today. The way she had clung to Harry had seemed so _desperate_.

“... I see to be doing okay.” Mia shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine. Um, not Harry ‘ _fine_ ’, but actually fine.” Mia turned and look at Hermione with a soft smile. “I’m… surprised, somewhat, at how well it went, now that I’m calmer. Harry being away from the Dursley’s house was likely from how he had described this summer, but to run into him so quickly…” 

Mia's smile grew wider until she was beaming, her eyes sparkling happily despite their residual redness. "I, seeing him alive, it didn't feel real at first, but… I'm…" Tears welled up in her eyes, but her smile didn't waver in the slightest. "I'm so happy to have seen him. To feel that he's alive, to know this is all real. That he's _okay._ " Mia took a few steadying breaths and reached out to grab Hermione's hand. "You did great, by the way. If Moody was mostly convinced—which I think he was by the end of it—then everyone else will be convinced too. We just need to keep it up."

Hermione smiled back at Mia. She wasn’t entirely convinced that her doppelganger was truly _fine,_ but she wasn’t about to break down again, which was something. If she was insisting she was okay then it would be best to leave it alone for now. Partly because Mia’s panic had been triggered by Mrs Weasley. Mia _had_ to be wrong about her, Ron, and everyone else. They just weren’t of being so evil.

“Will we need to take the potion again?” Hermione grimaced, not looking forward to drinking the foul concoction again.

“Probably, we are supposed to be grieving. We have another three full doses, but we can stretch that out. Make it more controllable.”

Hermione was about to nod but paused as she remembered they only brewed four doses. She had taken a full dose, which meant that… Mia had handled the entire situation with Harry, the Order, and Mrs Weasley without having taken the potion. All of her emotions around Harry had either been real or very well faked.

Even having seen their fake-parents die and having killed… the Death Eater—Hermione tried to block the sound of his last few wet gurgles out of her mind—it showed just how fragile Mia was. 

After they had unpacked the bag and found something slightly more appropriate to wear than their pyjamas—carefully avoiding looking at each other as they changed to avoid the surrealness—Mia broke the silence that had descended upon them.

"The next item on the list is convincing Kreacher to help us. Hopefully, he won't be too," She paused for a moment, taking her time to find the right word. " _Ornery._ He’s not a pleasant elf at the best of times and right now he will be at his worst.”

"With how everyone treats their elves it's no wonder." Hermione was tempted to begin a full-blown S.P.E.W rant but refrained since Mia would have to share her opinions on house-elves. "We need to do something for him, and the rest of them."

Mia smiled knowingly at Hermione. "We do, but better treatment wouldn't make him nicer. He's old and angry for a reason, even if he takes it out on the wrong people most of the time. He started being helpful and respectful, well a little _less_ disrespectful really, after we helped him. But even after that he still believed in the supremacy of the Blacks and was a crotchety old man of an elf."

"You shouldn't insult him." Hermione snapped.

"He is! Mr Filch is too; I said it so you know what to expect, not to insult him." Mia huffed and rolled her eyes "Elves deserve respect and kindness, but that doesn't mean we can't acknowledge their flaws. Dobby, for example, is honestly more than a little insane." 

Hermione turned and glared at Mia, ready to retort, but Mia interrupted her angrily. “He nearly got Harry killed, twice! Trying to 'save' him! He's not rational. At all."

Hermione knew Mia was right but still felt she should defend Dobby and the rest of the house-elves, no one else did. "It's still not nice to say." Dobby's obsession with Harry was concerning, but she tried not to let it bother her. It had seemed like a good way to garner support from Harry at the before, but he hadn't ever been enthusiastic about S.P.E.W. "Why doesn't Harry care more about the elves? He's friends with Dobby, and… and you said he was treated like one at home. Shouldn't he be sympathetic?"

"He should. I think he didn't want to disagree with... with _Him_ over it." Mia sighed and shook her head sadly. "And if he confronted the house-elves' situation he would have to accept how wrong his own was, and he hates the idea of not fitting in. Of being treated differently. There isn't much we can do now anyway,"

"What? We can—"

"We _can't_ free them. Not unless we _own_ them. The Headmaster is the 'owner' of all the castle's elves, save the one personal elf for each professor Knitting hats won’t help and will just scare them away from Gryffindor tower. Last time around Dobby started doing everything on his own because the rest avoided us.”

"Dobby's free."

"He's not—he bonded with Harry. Winky is free at the moment, but dying from lack of a bond. The bond isn't natural, it's artificial and horribly cruel, but we can't do anything about it until we can do real research. I don't think we will be able to get close to resolving it for years, maybe not even getting started until after school."

"Then what can we do? You said we can't do much _now._ " 

"There's a contract. I only found a few references to it, one of which is the library here, that was made more than a thousand years ago. Before Hogwarts. If we find the full contract we should be able to figure out how to free the elves. But that's not going to be fast, and we have bigger problems than house-elf rights right now." Mia shook her head and returned to their main topic."Anyway, Kreacher. We will need to get him alone and talk to him, shouldn't be too hard; if we mention Regulus' last order and he will pay attention. Probably insult us horribly, but he will pay attention."

Hermione's stomach grumbled loudly, causing her to blush and Mia to smirk. "Should we get lunch?" Hermione asked, feeling a little embarrassed.

Mia didn't respond for several seconds, her mouth working but no sound coming out. After a few moments, her own stomach grumbled and she flushed red. "Yes, I'm... don't forget to check the food. _She_ shouldn't have anything ready yet, but, just... be careful." She finished quietly, hunched in on herself and barely looking at Hermione.

Hermione didn't think it was necessary, not really. But after the vision she saw of Neville—that wave of unease washed over her again—she could understand Mia's paranoia, at least a little. It was still frustrating to deal with but she wouldn't ignore it outright. Not for now at least.

–oOoOo–

Sirius didn't entirely know what he was doing sitting in the hall of his house reading a book, but he did know why. Hermione Granger had spoken to Harry, was someone who knew him well and recently seen him in person. If anyone knew how his godson was doing it was the girl who helped rescue him from dementors just over a year ago. That there were two of them now, well, he could only feel his godson was one lucky boy. His female best friend just became two, and what little interaction he'd had with her reminded him a fair bit of Lily. Not by appearance, but he hadn't seen her at her best and Harry _had_ gone on about how amazing she looked at the ball.

And Molly had harped on enough about the loose morals of the girl for kissing Harry at the station, even if it was on the cheek, for him to know the girl liked his godson. Thinking about the red-headed matron had Sirius glaring off into the distance, there was just something wrong with that woman. Even if he hated the house it was still his and she kept acting as if she owned it over his protests.

She hadn't even tried to console Hermione—er, the girls, over the loss of their parents. He understood that even though he had never liked his own, losing Charlus and Dorea had been heartbreaking for both him and James. Molly didn't seem to care because they were Muggles, it was strange that Arthur's wife thought that made them unimportant.

The door to the master bedroom opened and he snapped out of his musings. Two identical girls, two Hermione Grangers, stepped out and he leapt up to greet them.

“You’re up!” He shouted, unaware of his volume, “Good, Molly left for the burrow not long after your arrived, muttering something about needing supplies if I heard her right. I made some food and put it in stasis for you, if you want it. I wouldn’t say much about the taste though, I’m not really used to gourmet food after all these years.”

Sirius failed to notice the differing reactions of the Hermiones to what he said, but he certainly noticed their different demeanours. One felt deeply anxious—a sense of fear and worry he could understand, but why was it only one of them and not both?

"Oh, thank you." The less nervous one replied, "I, I mean, we were getting a little hungry."

The girl’s voice was quiet and subdued, bringing to Sirius’ attention just how loud he had been, and reminding him of what he had wanted to say to them.

He readied himself for his prepared apology, one he had realised he had needed to give almost as soon as he had said something unpleasant to them. He wasn’t all there after his time in Azkaban, he knew, but he wasn’t going to screw things up. Not with his godson’s friends, and especially not now.

He couldn't help looking them over and trying to spot their differences; as an Animagus, he was more sensitive to some things, so while on the surface they were identical, it was only skin deep. Much like the Weasley twins whom he had briefly met two weeks ago.

One was nervous, anxious, and afraid. But not only that; her magic screamed of regret, grief, and self-loathing. Much the same as his own did. The other was merely a little tired, apprehensive, and far more curious than anything else, and while a little nervous didn’t seem afraid at all. It was peculiar.

There was also a sense that one was far more magically active than the other as if she had cast more spells, done more magic, and even been involved in powerful rites. It wasn't much and he may well be imagining it, or it could just be that she had been the one to kill Yaxley as Moody had mentioned and that had changed her. But it seemed rather extreme for that; not that it mattered, they were definitely both the girl he owed an apology to."

“I should apologise, I said what I believe to be true, but I wasn’t very sensitive about it. I may not have known your parents, but they are… must have been wonderful people. I cannot thank them enough for raising a girl who would stand by my Godson through all he has faced, or risk themselves for me so soon after learning I was innocent like you did.”

They nodded their acceptance and smiled, making Sirius grin wildly. He wasn’t sure if they were happy enough for the smiles to be genuine, but they had accepted his apology. 

“I did get you something, well. I mean…” He’d picked the book out to loan to them rather than as a gift, but he wasn’t particularly attached to it so it might as well be a gift. “Yes, it’s a gift, you can keep it.” 

He handed over the book and let them choose who took it; it was for both of them after all. The more nervous of the two accepted it and ran one hand across its cover as they peered at the title: _A True History of Magical Traditions: How We Assimilate Muggle Society._

It was a book he figured both Lily and Moony would have loved to get their hands on. Old, restricted, and dealing with the nonsense that was pureblood prejudice. He hadn’t read all of it, but reading how magical society slowly conformed due to the Muggle over time had been interesting. His mother would have thrown a fit; likely the only reason the book hadn’t been burned was because it was rare and therefore valuable. 

All in all, he thought it was a perfect gift for a Muggleborn bookworm.

“It’s one of the, ah, _safer_ books from the library. You are both bookwo—book lovers, right?" He chuckled to cover up his near slip; Remus didn't mind b ribbed about being a bookworm, but he wasn't so sure the girls would be so happy about it. "I would give you free rein in there but there are quite a few curses still floating about, and because I'm the only Black by Blood around no one else can go in there to deal with them safely."

He sighed dramatically and hung his head, peeking up at their curious expressions as he did. “It’s tiring me out, having to be all _responsible_ and _productive_.” There was a snort of amusement before Sirius stood back up and he grinned.

“Wasn’t Arthur’s mother a Black? Cedrella? Any of the Weasley’s except Molly should count then, shouldn’t they?” The book holding nervous Hermione asked.

Sirius was a little surprised she knew, very few Mugglebore cared to learn anything about pureblood genealogy. Unless they discovered the inbreeding and were disgusted by it anyway, Lily had been like that.

“She was disinherited formally. I wasn’t it seems, as much as my mother might have wished I was; guess old Arcturus thought more of me than _dear ol’ mum_ did.” That his grandfather had ruined his mother’s plans was a happy thing for Sirius, even if he didn’t care much more for Arcturus than he did his father. 

"Oh."

An awkward silence descended as they all stood there. Sirius, looking them both over again, finally realised that they're wearing their school uniforms—not the pyjamas they were in earlier that morning. Despite being curious, he was hesitant to ask how they had managed to get any amount of their things away during the attack, not wanting to dredge up any more thoughts about what had happened. It was bad enough it had happened at all without anyone jumping down their throats questioning them, and Sirius knew that someone would. Be it Snivellus or Moody, someone was going to push the girls into crying when the Order met to question them.

He didn't know when it would happen; Dumbledore was strangely absent and unconcerned that one of his students had been attacked and kidnapped. Sirius was doing his best not to think badly of the old man, but he was consistently failing to be helpful. He could understand not being able to get him a trial _now_ , with the Ministry slandering their former chief warlock, but a year ago that hadn't been an issue. And then there were the stories out of Hogwarts... hopefully he could get some out of the girls, a first-hand accounting of Harry's adventures.

"Can you..." He sighed."Look, I know that Harry is being watched and guarded. He needs to be, especially with..." He waved his hand at the two of them absently, a little uncomfortable with how they both flinched. "But can you tell me how he is? The others, they don't know him well."

"He's... I don't think he's happy. Dumbledore is ignoring him. He saw Voldemort torturing someone and sent a letter, but he was just told to stay at home." The book-less Hermione prevaricated.

"With his _relatives._ " The other spat, "When McGonagall took us away she gave me a chance to say goodbye and... I don't think I've seen him so angry before. He-he's watched someone die..." She trailed off.

Sirius leaned against the wall, taking a moment to think. They two seemed more like they were understating things, trying to keep Harry's privacy, and that concerned him. "And he's been left there. Alone." He looked up at the ceiling, "Dumbledore said we shouldn't contact Harry, let him—"

"No!" One of them shouted, although Sirius couldn't tell which.

"No. That is a _terrible_ idea." Nervous-Hermione said, "If he thinks we abandoned him he'll hate us. _R–Ron_ already did that _once_ in the last year. He was miserable through all of it. He might forgive us, but it... we can't do it. I can't do it." She was glaring at him fiercely, daring him to try and stop her from contacting Harry.

Sirius was surprised by her stutter over her other friend's name and filed the reaction away in his head. It might be important later. "Alright. I understand." 

He didn't want to avoid contacting Harry either, he had been away from his godson for long enough as it was. Before he had been trapped in prison for so many years, then on the run. Now he was locked away in a new prison, just one he owned personally.

What they needed was a method of communication that couldn’t be detected or warded against. They’d had the same issue at Hogwarts… He needed to find Remus, his old mirror had still been locked up in his room where he’d left it after fleeing to the Potters, and Remus should still have his! 

If Remus didn't have his mirror there was always James', although that would be harder to get since it would be in the Potter vault at Gringotts with the rest of their possessions. At least the bloody _Rat_ had broken his so there was no chance of him spying on them through it if he did get ahold of a pair.

"I know exactly the thing. I will need to talk to Remus, but I'll get us a way to talk to Harry without getting intercepted." He grinned at the girls, receiving tentative smiles in return. It wasn't as enthusiastic a reaction as he was hoping for, but it was better than nothing.

"Sirius, would it be alright to eat in our room?" Nervous-Hermione asked,

"Of course. Just clean up after yourselves—ah! You can use magic, just don't let Molly see you. Ministry can't detect you in here, but she would blow her top if she found out." He scowled, he’d never followed the underage restrictions as a kid and doubted Molly had either. The Prewetts weren’t much better than the Blacks about such things. "You'll want magic if you get roped into cleaning. The woman's determined to do it without, but half the things in here are cursed, and the other half are poisoned, you kids shouldn't be touching them."

He waited until they told him they understood before leading them down to the kitchen to pick up a couple of plates of food; he was a little surprised he had to undo the stasis charms himself, but it wasn’t that odd they had never encountered such charms before.

He watched as the two ascended back up the stairs whispering to each other, only pausing briefly when Kreacher made an appearance to disparage their bloodline. He had almost interfered, but they said something to the elf that had him pop away in a hurry.

He had a sneaking suspicion something was up with the two of them, their story was extraordinarily strange, but he could keep quiet. They had gone to Harry first, trusted him, and Harry trusted them. That was enough for Sirius—if they were on his godson's side he would be on theirs.


	5. Ch. V - Hermione Performs A Ritual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appear to be incapable of writing fluff. Dark and depressing just comes so naturally.
> 
> Many thanks to both Tyrannic_Puppy and Jamethiel for providing comments and beta work on this chapter.
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of past mind-control and rape. Seriously, if you have those triggers stop reading this story or at least wait until it's done so you can skip past them.  
> Disclaimer: Does everyone except Hermione assume that just because house elves say they like being enslaved that they aren't being magically coerced, contracted, or compelled into saying that? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.

**_ 7th of July, 1995, Grimmauld Place, Islington, London _ **

Hermione and Mia had made themselves breakfast–some simple buttered toast and a couple of apples–before Kreacher deigned to speak with them. They had managed to get through the last of the previous day, including dinner with Mrs Weasley. It was a tense affair due to Mia's terror and paranoia. Still, at least she'd ensured that there were no mind-affecting potions or substances. Unless you counted the depressing atmosphere of the house as a mind-affecting substance, as it was omnipresent.

Molly had invited the pair to stay at the Burrow until more rooms were cleared, and they could all move in at once. For obvious reasons, they had refused. Hermione wasn't looking forward to seeing Ron again as much as she normally might have; he had done quite a few horrible things over the past year and while they had moved past them, the Mia situation was inevitably going to cause another fight. What kind of fight she didn't know, but a fight was almost inevitable when Ron was involved.

They had also been questioned on where their clothes came from, which of course brought up the expanded bag. Sirius seemed curious but grateful and had offered to use the money from his family's vaults to pay for their extra supplies, but Mia turned him down politely before she'd had a chance to respond herself. Mrs Weasley seemed to think that they had no reason to have such a valuable item and took offence to it as well as the revelation that they were descended from Hector Dagworth-Granger.

Mia had later explained that if they had accepted the offer as it was, it would have started counting against the debt they held over Sirius, and they may still need that later. It was more conniving and _Slytherin_ than Hermione liked, but she preferred to not accept charity if she didn't need to anyway. Mia was certain they had enough to cover the rest of Hogwarts for both of them, even assuming they received nothing from their parents for as long as they were out of the country, so she didn't make a protest. She did, however, make a mental note that Mia was almost constantly trying to work some kind of plan, even if it involved manipulating their friends.

Kreacher, when he had finished his morning insults, led them off to a dingy and untidy, but somewhat clean, storage room. He had refused to speak to them in their bedroom, saying that it had been polluted and turned into a 'nest of mudblood filth' as the politest term. Hermione was truthfully a little impressed by the elf's vocabulary, despite how cruelly he employed it.

The storage room was clearly where he had been hoarding anything he recovered from Mrs Weasley's cleaning efforts. She could see a few things that had been collected to be thrown out the previous evening sitting in boxes along the walls. It was by no means full, but it was out of the way, and Hermione doubted anyone would find the room unless they were intentionally looking for a hiding place or had lived here for years like Sirius had.

Kreacher himself was simply stood there, waiting for some unknown cue as he muttered insults about their blood status, gender, heritage and magical ability, and glared at them. While she did feel insulted, after hearing his story from Mia, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him and wish he had had a better life. His existence must have been incredibly cruel for him to become such a spiteful person. There was no way he could possibly get better if they treated him the same way he treated them and even if S.P.E.W had to be put on hold, she could still treat house elves kindly.

Mia interrupted Kreacher's ramblings and Hermione's thoughts by starting what they had cornered him for, "Kreacher. As I said in the corridor yesterday–the cave, the locket, the dark one, and the fallen master. I know of these things and can help you, but you will have to work with us to do it. I know how, but neither of us have the means right now."

"Kreacher still thinks ugly little witchling is lying to poor old Kreacher, peddling secrets she learned by theft and wrongness." He glared at Mia, his eyes bulging and his teeth bared. "But Kreacher tried again and cannot. Kreacher must but cannot. So Kreacher will listen to _mudblood_ _bitch_ in vain hope her lying tongue speaks truth." His words were laced with spite and venom, disdain dripping from each and every insult. Hermione was truly glad to not have met Sirius' mother, as she must have put Malfoy's bigotry to shame.

"Do you know _why_ Master Regulus wanted the locket destroyed, Kreacher?" Mia asked, far more calmly than Hermione might have.

"No," Kreacher cringed away and hissed at them."Master wanted locket destroyed. Not Kreacher's place to question Master."

"It holds a piece of the Dark One's soul. Keeps him _alive_ after death." Hermione hadn't been told that detail, so she turned to stare at Mia with a startled look. _What?_ How could Mia be so casual about that? She was almost about to ask why or how he made it, but Mia glanced at her, and she bit her lip. They needed Kreacher and interrupting might mess things up.

His eyes narrowed as he released another harsh hiss, expressing disgust and hate without words.

"I cannot _destroy_ the locket right now, and I don't want to either. It's... both priceless, and–"

"Then what does Mudblood offer Kreacher?! Lying she-bitch!" He reared up to his full height and screamed, his small voice echoing thunderously. Hermione was glad that they had prepared silencing wards.

"Cleansing. The removal of the soul-shard. The darkness. The _taint._ " Mia said, holding her hands out conciliatingly.

"Not good enough," said Kreacher, sniffing. "Master ordered locket _destroyed._ Kreacher will see locket destroyed."

"I know how to do that," said Mia, returning Kreacher's glare calmly, "but I need things I cannot get here. I can cleanse it now, today." Mia leaned back, looking at Kreacher pensively, "Is that a good enough start?"

Kreacher remained perfectly still as he looked Mia over from head to toe with a mixture of disgust and curiosity, his eyes wide and bulging as if to pop out of his head. "Kreacher will watch... cleansing. Kreacher decide _after._ "

"Alright, I'll need a few things–all of them are in the house... a book, _Most Sacred Rituals_ from the library, some incense, a drop of virgin's blood... we have that anyway, and moon-washed spring-water." She paused, thinking over her next requirement with pursed lips, "And we will need access to the ritual room." She gave Kreacher a _look_ , "A clean ritual room."

Kreacher sneered "Ritual room be prepared, mudblood... Kreacher knows proper ways. Not let girl forget." He vanished with a _crack_ and a moment later, a heavy tome–the ritual book–dropped onto the floor with a soft _plop_.

Mia turned to Hermione, who was feeling somewhat concerned–she hadn't been told any of the details about the locket or ritual, just the story of how Regulus had died and the methods by which it could be destroyed. "That went about as well as I could have hoped." Mia said.

"Virgin's blood?" Hermione asked, biting her lip.

"Purity element. It's that or unicorn horn, and I like bleeding a little somewhat more than murdering a unicorn." Mia rolled her eyes. "I know it's considered dark, but blood magic is... it's questionable. Easily used for dark things, and corrupts the source of the blood if it's used for evil, but this is a purifying ritual."

Hermione blinked and looked at Mia, still holding some lingering doubts. "Are you sure...?"

"It's thirty millilitres of blood, Hermione. Thirty millilitres. I have a medical syringe already prepared." Mia dusted her hands together dismissively.

"I thought blood magic would be...," She struggled for a moment, "it is banned isn't it? Not taught anymore. If it's not inherently bad, why is it banned?"

"Because it _can_ be dark. Incredibly dark. A corrupting ritual rather than a purifying one for example... what happened to... us. At the end of this year. I haven't–I don't want–explained it." Mia was struggling, her breathing growing quicker and shallower. "it was a blood and... virgin... sacrificial ritual. Enslavement." Hermione reached over to hug Mia, but at the lightest touch Mia stumbled backward, forcing distance between them.

"No. Not now. I can't deal with being touched right now." Mia crossed her arms and rubbed her hands up and down her ribs. "Anyway. Blood magic; it can be used properly–and we need it to do this, I don't know any other way–but it can also be incredibly _vile._ The only pieces of it that remain in use here in Britain are family magics"

Hermione scowled disbelievingly, "The _Weasleys_ have an enslavement blood ritual?!"

"No. Not _them_. The _Prewetts._ Older family, still generally light, but some stories say they invented Amortentia and its derivatives. They certainly have a wider variety of _those_ kind of potions than anyone else." Mia shuddered, forcibly taking deep breaths and righting herself. "Right. Sorry. Not something you want to hear." She picked the book up off the floor and started leafing through it, "Here it is. We should head to the ritual room; I doubt Kreacher is going to be patient."

Hermione was frowning as she followed Mia out of the room, casually taking down the silencing and impermeability charms as she went. Mia was still being obstinate about the Weasleys. There hadn't been anything in the food last night or this morning--both meals which Mrs Weasley had prepared. Hermione had promised to keep the time-travel secret until September at least, but if Mia kept insisting on things for which there were no evidence, then she wouldn't keep it for long after.

–oOoOo–

Hermione was apprehensive as she followed Mia through the house and down to the cellar. The entrance to the lowest levels wasn't sealed–the duelling, ritual and 'dungeon' rooms were all down there–but it was unfortunately in the kitchen. They had to wait several minutes under a disillusionment charm to dodge Mrs Weasley. Hermione thought it was a little excessive, but she also didn't she want to hear another tirade from Mrs Weasley about Dumbledore fixing everything and how Mrs Weasley would take care of them.

The last thing Hermione wanted from Mrs Weasley was another mother figure. The woman may be loving but a good parent she was not.

She couldn't help coughing as they descended down the carved stone steps. The air was thick with dust and neglect, the stairs were dark, and they were forced to rely on a Lumos for light. "I thought Kreacher said the ritual room was _clean_ ," she said under her breath.

Mia had obviously heard her. "Clean magically, not physically. Although he'll probably manage that as well, just so he can complain about us tracking dust into his 'clean' ritual chamber. He never said anything about the stairs or corridor, so it's no surprise it's in this state." Mia pulled out her wand and cast a _Flipendo_ , causing several doxies to drop to the floor, "Of course, that means it's still infested down here. At least we don't have to fight them with spray bottles this time around..." Mia's voice trailed off into indistinct muttering.

Hermione frowned. Doxies were venomous. Why would you fight them with spray bottles? Mrs Weasley had tried to give them a dog-eared copy of _Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests_ last night _,_ but she had refused it. Not using magic seemed like something he would've suggested since he couldn't manage anything useful with his wand.

The door to the ritual room itself was an old oak door. The second layer of the cellar was all carved blocks of stone; it felt more like a part of Hogwarts Castle than that of a London townhouse. The door didn't have a handle, so Hermione watched as Mia took out her wand and tapped parts of the door in sequence. If there was a pattern or specific set of points she had hit Hermione couldn't see them.

The room beyond was gloomy, and barely lit by non-magical candles set into braces on the walls. You could see what you were doing if you had to, but reading or discerning colour could only be done directly next to one of the candles. In the centre of the room were four circles carved into the stone. They didn't have any runes or the like adorning them. Instead they were plain circles with a few lines weaving around their edges. Three smaller circles sat around the outside of one much larger circle. In the centre of it all there was a small depression in the stone. One just large enough to fit a small bowl.

"We will need to undress and change into shifts. I never got the chance to buy full ritual robes, but I did pick up some basic garments that won't cause an issue." Mia said as she stepped into the room. She passed over the expanded bag and pointed over to the side of the immaculate chamber. There was an old and worn screen beside a chest. "Go and change, put anything other than the shift, book and syringe into the chest. It's made to prevent anything inside interfering with rituals done in the room."

Not knowing much about ritual magic, Hermione acquiesced quietly, letting Mia take control over the situation. Once she was changed, she started reading over the details of the ritual Mia had bookmarked, finding the details of the ritual fascinating. She was so engrossed she didn't even notice Mia change and stow her own clothing, but she did notice when Kreacher opened the door and started cursing.

"Mudbloods took their time to come help poor old Kreacher. Kreacher wonders if filthy spawn of muggle whores were being honest, or if their lying tongues were wagging wildly," he said with his face twisted into a foul grimace.

Mia took the insults in stride. "Did you bring the spring water and locket?"

"Yesss." He hissed, ears flat against his head. "Kreacher has water and evil locket. Kreacher also brought incense, since Mudbloods no doubt stupid and brought _muggle_ filth that would only taint most venerable house of Black." He laid out the items on the floor on a piece of cloth, a bundle of twelve incense sticks, a solidly opaque black bottle, and a small rag-wrapped bundle. Hermione couldn't see the locket itself but assumed it must be the small bundle wrapped in rags, as it was supposed to be cursed.

Mia quickly collected the incense and set the sticks up around the circle, but left them unlit. In the centre depression, she placed a small silver bowl that had been left in the chamber and poured the water into it–Hermione could see the water shining unnaturally, as if trying to reflect a silvery light that wasn't present in the ill lit room. "Hermione," Mia said, catching her attention, "If you want to participate–have you read the anchor section of the ritual?" At her answering nod, Mia continued, "Then you know you'll need to sit in the far circle, that one." She pointed at the smaller circle farthest from the entrance.

"Memorise your part; you'll need to put the book in the chest before we start. The preservation charms might get in the way."

Hermione glanced down at the book, almost offended that a ritual book would be made in such a way that it could interfere with a ritual. _Don't purebloods know how to make usable reference material to use while they work?_

Mia came over and collected the medical syringe, carefully poked it into her arm and–took it back out. She was frowning. "This harder than I thought," she said as she lined it up again and tried once more to find a vein. Hermione tried not to pay attention to her counterpart as Mia slowly riddled the inside of her elbow with pin-prick holes, instead focusing on the part of an anchor in the coming ritual. Mia must have succeeded eventually, however, as the barrel was filled blood red by the time she had finished going over the ritual a second time.

The blood would be used to anoint the incense, a single drop, before they were lit, and then used to draw three runes around the bowl of moon washed spring water. Which, apparently, had to be collected on a moonless night in complete darkness, stored in covered light-less container, and only opened once a month on the full moon for a year. It only had a use in rituals and since ritual magic wasn't covered in Hogwarts, she had never encountered any before. Fortunately for them, the only deciding factor in the potency of the water was how many times it had been exposed to the moon. There was no consideration of how old or stale the water might be.

She would be playing the role of the anchor, acting as a ward to prevent corrupting influences on the ritual worker, while she herself would be protected by the barrier of incense and the ritual circle. She had very little to actually do as an anchor–mostly just sit there and let her magic connect and buffer the ritual worker. Maybe relighting the incense with her wand if they were overpowered and went out. Something she hoped wouldn't be an issue, as it would mean one of them wasn't powerful enough to perform the ritual properly, or that they needed higher quality incense.

Satisfied that she had her tasks firmly set in her head, Hermione placed the ritual book gingerly inside the chest, still eager to read the rest of it. Rituals were a branch of magic she had barely any knowledge of, so even a single book held more wonders for her than all the coming textbooks for her O.W.L year did.

"You ready to start?" Mia asked. Kreacher muttered something indecipherable but undoubtedly rude under his breath in response. He was sitting in a far corner of the room, behind what looked like carving of braided rope dug deep into the floor. Mia followed her gaze as she failed to respond and answered the unasked question, "House elves are inherently magical. That's the only place he can stay in the room without causing problems. Well, there or in the chest. But if something goes wrong the attending house elf behind the braided well can immediately help, unlike one stuffed into a magic proof box." She scowled, "Not to say the purebloods never stuffed elves into magic proof boxes, because I'm sure they _did_. It just isn't helpful."

The ritual itself was both simple and tiring for Hermione. She found that having her magic drawn and swell around Mia was exhausting and incredibly strange in a manner she had never experienced before. She could feel a trace of the other girl's emotions: a lot of fear, regret, and a small smattering of hope. At times when the emotions weren't there, she couldn't tell apart her own magic and Mia's as Mia chanted in Latin, and was slowly losing herself to the ritual. She had wanted to listen to the incantation and watch the actions Mia took but found herself unable to focus on anything other than the magic in the room.

It had been fifteen minutes when Mia finished the ritual preparations and dropped the unwrapped Slytherin Locket into the bowl. Causing a rush of magic, a horrifying scream, and Hermione to black out from the sudden snap of her magic returning to her in full.

 

**April 11th, 2004, Gringotts Holding Cell, Gringotts Bank**

_It hurts._

"Miss Granger-Potter."

_It doesn't stop._

"Miss Granger-Potter. I ask that you speak to me."

"Wh-hy." Blood on the tongue, her throat raw. Pain.

_Deserved._

"I am your Vault Keeper, following the execution of the will. You are, by inheritance, blood, and ritual, the heir of houses Potter and Peverell." Ripstalk is standing calmly outside the open cell, watching the human within.

She had moved to eat, to drink, but only mechanically, all the while muttering that she had promised not to fail. That she wasn't allowed to fail. She couldn't remember what she had promised to who, or why, but it was important. She knew that much.

"N-no. Why nic-e" Her words remain broken. Her throat raw and her mind too stubborn to permit healing.

"You do not know much about goblins, Miss Granger-Potter; few do. We know what you and He did, with the... third companion also." Hermione fails to notice the admiration and respect in Ripstalk's tone, far too entrenched in her own sorrow.

_Hurts._

"So–take, what costs. Not reason, no re-reason for n-ice."

"You misunderstand, Miss Granger-Potter. You completed the challenge; Gringotts had never been successfully robbed. Never before; but in your hand was an item of the deepest vaults, taken from within. The... third" They had had this conversation several times before, she could dimly recall, but something had always caused her to scream and cry before, "–was hated by the bank and barred, along with his sister. They had provided false records, and upon further investigation, committed crimes against magic."

He looks at Hermione, his face strangely void of the viciousness normally shown by goblins to all they meet.

_It hurts._

"I cannot tell you what it means for them to have done this, even now. It is an ancient law that the secret must be discovered alone. I can say that what was done is the foulest of crimes; no evil greater, no punishment too grand, no act of spite too small." Ripstalk's snarls and turns away slightly, his teeth bared and hands reaching for a blade that is not there.

Hermione curls tighter into a ball and returns to sobbing but remains facing Ripstalk with her eyes open and staring. Asking him to continue.

"The elf, Kreacher, is aware. It has prepared the, ah, 'House of the Dogfather' for residence. We ask that you leave the bank by tomorrow. The Ministry is growing... aggravating." Ripstalk sounds as if he would very much like to do something to the Ministry, but is unable to.

She gives a shaky nod, and whispers the name ' _Kreacher'_. He doesn't answer, so she pushes herself upright and staggers out of the cell.

She had failed. Kreacher didn't come, because he knew of her failure. Of course he wouldn't recognise her as his master. As undeserving as she was.

_Failed. Not allowed to fail._

_Everything is wrong. It hurts._

She would return to the forest. It was where she was meant to be. The last happy memory she had had with Harry.

They'd wanted to grow old together; now she would have to grow old alone.

_Hurts so much. Where did you go?_

**7th of July, 1995, Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

"Hermione! Hermione! Wake up! Oh Merlin, oh no. What went wrong. Did I mess up the incense? No, no. They're still burning, still marked. What. Happened." Hermione was being shaken. She was having trouble focusing, nothing mattered, Harry was dead– _Harry is not dead!_ She tried to blink the world back into focus and found her eyes swimming with tears.

_Harry died for me._

She gasped in a deep breath and began shaking from head to toe.

"Hermione! No, no. _Aninspicio,_ no. Nothing. Not the Horcrux. Hermione! Wake up! Please... I, I–I messed up. No. Please." Hermione could hear someone sobbing, and it wasn't herself. She wasn't sobbing because she wasn't breathing.

_I got Harry killed._

_Harry is alive! He is at his home, alive!_ She told herself, forcing back the despair that wasn't her own. She could still feel the bone-deep hopelessness and grief that had permeated the vision far more strongly than the disgust and _hate_ she had felt for Neville after the previous one.

It connected far more closely to her own feelings; she didn't fear, hate, or even dislike Neville. He had been her friend in first year, even if the quiet boy was no longer close to her. But Harry–Harry she had seen nearly die so many times she could almost believe it was true.

_Failed him._

She knew it wasn't. It was just a memory, one of Mia's. It was tempting to just give up, to allow hopelessness consume her, and let the knowledge that Harry had died because of her eat herself up inside until nothing was left.

But it wasn't real: her parents weren't dead, Harry was alive, and she had seen him just over twenty four hours ago. She wouldn't give in. Hermione focused on the memories of the previous day: of seeing Harry, holding and being held by him, the satisfaction of seeing the Auror–who had been watching Harry–get punched for interrupting her time with him.

She had regained enough of a grasp on herself to breathe normally when Mia started crying pleadingly again.

"Hermione, you have to be okay. I can't fail. I can't. Can't. Won't. No. Hermione! Wake up!" Mia had been waving her wand over Hermione's collapsed form, casting spell after spell.

Hermione only recognised half of them, and all those she did recognise were medical spells. Ones that were used to determine a patient's wellbeing.

She pushed herself upright and nearly was pushed back to the ground as Mia slammed into her, hugging her tightly and sobbing into her hair.

"Oh Merlin, you're awake. Hermione, what happened? Please, tell me." Mia's voice was choked and cracked, and she was shaking. "I–I need you to tell me."

Hermione didn't want to say anything, didn't want to explain that she was seeing things that hadn't happened. She was remembering things that must be snippets of the future–snippets of the memories the older Hermione had given to Mia. To explain that, to voice it, would be acknowledging that future as real. To acknowledge that she was living in a world where she had gone back in time because things had become so grim, so hopeless, that there was nothing else left for her.

It was terrifying.

She remained stiff in Mia's arms, not returning the hug, and feeling incredibly drained and tired in ways she had never really felt before.

"Hermione? Say something. I need you to speak, Hermione." She didn't respond, still uncertain what she was feeling, thinking over the situation in her head.

If she took it all as being real, accepted the future as truth and not a delusion, she would have to accept all of it. She had gotten by so far being sceptical and examining what Mia said word by word and trying to find a flaw, something where she was wrong. But Mia hadn't been wrong, not yet. She didn't know everything: she didn't save Cedric, and she didn't stop Harry going to the graveyard. Hermione believed her when she said she hadn't had the time or opportunity, that she had had plans built around being in Hogwarts–being _Hermione_ not _Mia_.

The thought her future self could have overwritten her, taken over and replaced her, was scary as well. If it had happened, it was unlikely anyone would have noticed. The trauma of the task going wrong, the attack on her home and parents, the displacement to Grimmauld Place; they would have accounted for Mia's strange quirks and habits.

She would still have been Hermione, but not the _right_ Hermione. People changed; of course they did. People grew up, got older, learnt, and matured. But how different would the transfer have been from brainwashing someone into being someone else. How different was it from killing someone? Hermione didn't know. She doubted Mia knew either, and unless the other girl was so different as to not even really be Hermione Granger anymore, it should have been on her mind, weighing her down.

"Hermione?" Mia fisted her hands in Hermione's shift as she clung on tightly.

"I'm here." Hermione reached up to pry Mia's hands off of her. "Mia? I need you to answer a question."

"Hermione? Tell me you're okay. Please."

"I'm... I'm concerned." She said, looking Mia in the eye. "When you came back, what did you think would happen to me?"

Mia didn't immediately reply, instead shakily shuffling away and putting some distance between them. Hermione took the opportunity to sit upright and look around the room again. The water in the bowl had lost all its lustre, instead now murky enough to prevent the silver itself from shining in the candlelight. The incense still burned, and its scent filled the air. Kreacher was holding the locket in his hand, poking it and muttering, seemingly pleased. Curiously, she felt relieved as she looked at Kreacher, as if the elf being there meant she had done something right. After a moment, it hit her; she had seen Kreacher before. He was the elf who had helped the elder Hermione kill Neville. The one she had tried to call in the bank, but whom hadn't come.

As interesting a revelation as that was, it was not what caught and held her attention when Hermione glanced across the room. Mia was sitting back on her heels with her eyes averted from Hermione, but the rictus of fear on her pale face was still plain to see.

"I, I–you..." Mia swallowed noisily, "I believed we would merge. My memories and... and abilities mixing with my younger personality, evening out the... the damage from seeing the memories and learning things as I did." Mia wrung her hands.

"There wasn't any evidence, was there?"

"No. She... the older us, she never bothered. It didn't matter to her; she knew the ritual was as likely to work as it ever was, and that was good enough. What happened to you... didn't matter." Mia shrunk in on herself, arms tightly hugging her chest and knees drawn in close. She was staring at the floor, unable to meet Hermione's gaze.

"But it did matter to you."

"... I didn't want anyone to die. Not you, not Cedric. Not even Yaxley." She paused. "I'm sorry. I... I shouldn't have made you watch that."

"It was the logical choice." Hermione really did believe it was. It had been scary to see someone die, but she understood why. Both why he needed to die, and why she needed to see him die. It still didn't mean she would be able to forget the look on his face as the light in his eyes went out.

"Logical doesn't mean _right_." Mia whispered, barely audible. "Hermione? Please, tell me what happened."

"Why did she kill Neville?"

Mia froze stock still, and her breathing stopped. After a few moments, she raised her head and stared at Hermione with her eyes wide. "Hermione...?" She trailed off.

"Answer me."

Mia's mouth worked soundlessly until she shook her head, hair bouncing wildly. "Neville... Neville is a pureblood. He's not a bigot like Malfoy. He doesn't even look down on Muggles as quaint like Arthur. But... he's proud of his heritage, of tradition. He believes in rites and bonds." She took in a shaky breath. "Like the one _she_ was under. One claimed to only be possible by the free will of the bonded slave." Mia stopped talking and buried her face in her knees, taking in raspy, uneven breaths.

Hermione sat silently, waiting for Mia to pull herself back from the abyss she had fallen into. She knew Neville had always fallen back on tradition when they talked, avoided being alone with her unchaperoned, spoken proudly of the old festivals and holidays he spent with his Grandmother. He never pushed his beliefs onto her, but he held them close. She had had to force him to join S.P.E.W, and while he never argued with her about the house elves like Ron did, she had been able to tell he thought that things shouldn't change. That she was rocking the boat.

If something like this was truly a part of wizarding culture, something permitted or even respected, he could well have believed and acted that way in the right circumstances. What she didn't know and didn't understand was how those circumstances could have come to be..

It was obvious that Mia wasn't going to talk–Hermione would have to prompt her. "So, what did he do?"

After taking in a breath that had her entire frame shaking, Mia spoke. " _Ronald_ grew... bored with us. Neville had found out about the... bondage, and _he_ wanted Neville to keep quiet. To not tell Harry. _He_ said Harry would never understand, that _she_ had... wanted it. So... Neville had her for a night. Then another. Only... it had been a calmer year for Harry, but he had gone to her for... help. She had _commitments_ , so she lied. Told him that he was being silly and paranoid... brushed him off." She choked back a sob, then another, and forced out the last few words. "Neville to– took her from Harry when he ne–needed her. That's the crime she felt he committed." As soon as Mia finished, she broke down completely. Her body shaking as her sobs wracked her small frame.

It fit. It fit what she had seen in the vision in the tent, and it fit with the grief she had just felt. That overwhelming sense of _failing._

She almost said she was sorry for asking, but she didn't. It wouldn't have been honest, and she had needed to hear what Mia had said. Much as she had done the previous day, she moved closer and gathered Mia into her arms and started stroking Mia's hair and back. Hermione let Mia cling to her shift and sob into her chest.

The only differences were that she was the one that caused Mia pain this time, and that they had an audience.

"Mudblood girls keep their word. Dark one gone from evil locket..." Kreacher said loud enough for them to hear, although Mia was too preoccupied with crying to respond. "Kreacher wants to know, how will mudblood girls destroy locket?" His voice was cruelly curious, as if eager to force them to answer despite the state the two of them were in.

Hermione knew Mia needed Kreacher for something, and she knew that one part of that would be his ability to protect them from being potioned. To provide safe food. She wouldn't keep being sceptical; she would believe Mia for now. If nothing happened before they went to Hogwarts, she would change how she thought again but sitting on the fence wasn't helping either of them.

Hermione glanced between Kreacher and Mia. He was flicking his weathered ears about and Mia was still sobbing, leaving Hermione to convince him for her time-lost counterpart. "Basilisk venom. The way we will destroy the locket is basilisk venom."

Kreacher narrowed his eyes and quirked his head.

"There is a dead basilisk at Hogwarts that we can get access to. Either the locket goes with us to the school and is destroyed there, or we return with venom at Christmas and destroy it then." She didn't know if that was what Mia had planned, or if it was the right way to tell Kreacher, but she had to improvise. She couldn't let Mia do everything herself–she wasn't an oracle, nor some perfect saviour from the future.

She was a broken teenage girl. Her head filled with traumas that weren't even her own. A mirror of herself, if she had been forced to face horrors far beyond the almost saintly adventures she Harry and Ron had shared in their first three years.

Kreacher nodded and said, "Kreacher has been listening to mudblood girls. Much they say not make sense, but, Kreacher will aid... kill dark one. There are more, like evil locket yes?" He didn't wait for an answer before nodding his head with a vicious grin on his face. "Yes. Kreacher watch and keep safe... mudbloods may be mud, but even mud is better than betrayer of Master. Kreacher can take place with ancestors once Master is avenged."

Hermione ignored his hissing and venomous glare as he popped away, and turned all her attention back to Mia. "I'm here Mia. While I don't understand, even though I probably never will, I don't blame you. Neither I nor Harry will abandon you, okay?"


	6. Ch. VI - Hermione Suffers A Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would apologise for the probable confusion about the POV's in this chapter, but honestly, future Hermione still thinks of herself as 'Hermione' even if she answers to 'Mia'. Also, I find it funny.  
> I have a broken sense of humour, comes with being a Brit.  
> Many thanks to both Tyrannic_Puppy and Jamethiel for providing comments and beta work on this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: Did side-along apparition not exist prior to the Half-Blood Prince, thusly forcing silly plans like Moody's hours long broom ride over London? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.

**7th of July, 1995, 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

Hermione's younger, and perhaps not so naive, other self had just finished describing what she had seen. Explaining the visions, seeing Neville's death, the day... _She_ had left the bank, and the emotions which intruded upon her thoughts whenever she thought of anything that could be linked to the memories.

Hermione understood that feeling; she lived with it every moment of every day. It was a constant nagging, a perpetual battle between the memories that were hers and those which were from herself before she had performed the _Regression_. She had been forced to rely on Occlumency to keep the urges and impulses at bay. There were now so many things she knew should be morally repugnant to her–that did disgust her–but she wanted to do anyway.

_Kill them. Make them pay._

Even with the training Andromeda had given her, she still made mistakes. Killing Yaxley had been an impulse she had rationalised after the fact. She had considered it, even mentioned the possibility to her counterpart, but she didn't think it through. She'd not given other options anywhere near enough consideration.

In that regard, coming to Grimmauld had been a minefield–the _Mother Weasel_ and Sirius alone were almost crippling to spend time near, and she was now grateful she had her counterpart with her. Without someone who she could confide in she suspected her defences would have broken the first day, shattered by the touch of _Molly._

_Hate her. Make her understand._

She couldn't let that happen. She had to keep her other self, the much more real and innocent young Hermione, safe. She needed to be more careful so that what she feared had happened with the ritual didn't. Harry would need her. Her kindness and compassion and innocent love would keep him from breaking under the stresses of the coming year. Hermione dreaded to think what would happen when they told him, when the time came for her to reveal the secrets she had kept. He would hate it, she knew; maybe even hate her. So long as he was safe, alive, and able to be happy, that didn't matter.

She would just have to try to take all of the blame herself, so that he could still have a Hermione that he trusted.

She'd had enough time to think and draw her own conclusions on what the visions were. They were integrated memories of the future, that much was obvious, although they seemed to be fragments rather than the full memories she had been given. They would need more information to be certain, but for now she at least had a theory that could be kept and tested against any possible future occurrences.

"Hermione, I don't know what these... visions are, but at the very least I have a theory. Do you have one?"

"I don't have a theory on why they are happening–after the first one I thought they would be connected to your nightmares, but after the one just now? Clearly not." Hermione could see why she had thought that, but the two conflicting data points seemed to have debunked it. "I believe they might be similar to Harry's visions of Riddle, like the one he wrote to us about." That, she hadn't considered, and was surprised that her younger counterpart had thought of it where she hadn't. But then, she did know why Harry had his visions and since neither she nor her counterpart were living Horcruxes, let alone of one another, it somewhat ruled out that possibility.

_We are already so greatly diverged._ _By the end of the year, outside of our appearance, people probably wouldn't even mistake us for one another..._ The idea of their ever growing differences was bittersweet. It meant they weren't forever doomed to be considered interchangeable like the Twins were, but it was also a clear sign of that she had lost her innocent naivety. She had lost something precious that she could never truly regain.

"I had not considered that," she said, feeling no reason to pretend she knew more than she did. "But I know _exactly_ why Harry has those visions. I cannot see how it would apply to us. It's... your occlumency is good enough now, Hermione." She smiled at Hermione before quickly turning her expression grim. "The reason Dumbledore believes Harry has to die, and why Dumbledore set him up and manipulated his life is because he has... Harry has a Horcrux in his scar." Her last words are a whisper. "A fragment of Riddle's soul, which resonates with the original to cause him pain and show him what Riddle sees. Sometimes it isn't even real, just what he wants Harry to see."

Her other self knew about the Horcruxes now and had just helped cleanse one. There wasn't much point in keeping this from her any longer. It was fascinating to watch the emotions flicker across her counterpart's face, starting with horror, fear, then a little disgust–immediately followed by guilt–and finally anger. So much anger.

"He thought Harry had to die because of that?!" Hermione yelled as she jumped to her feet. "We cleansed one in a single day! The ritual even said it was designed to work on the _living_!" She started pacing with her arms gesturing wildly, knocking over a stick of incense in her rage. "How could that... that... manipulative old child abusing buggerer! How could he have never come across any way to help Harry without killing him!" It was strange. Her own reaction had been so much the same all those months ago, and it felt like she was looking in a mirror, seeing from the outside what had truly made her a Gryffindor rather than a Ravenclaw.

That hotheaded determination to do good, to see justice done, and the guilty punished. All regardless of the consequences. That and her stubbornness, her inability to back down when pressed. She had flaws, probably more than she even knew, but those were what made her a Gryffindor.

"I know, Hermione." She said with barely restrained laughter. "We'll make sure he understands what he did wrong."

Her counterpart stopped and turned to her, "You said he wasn't evil. Why? How is he _not_ evil? How can you consider someone who does _that_ a good person?!"

It was unpleasant to have the anger pointed at her, cutting deep so soon after she had relied on the other girl for comfort from her own fears. Fears that the younger Hermione had dredged up to the surface. "Because," she said carefully, "Not being a good person does not necessarily make you evil. Dumbledore, in the end, was doing what he thought would save lives." She paused, debating whether she should say the phrase. "For _the Greater Good."_

"His methods are deplorable, the ends not justifying the means in the slightest," Her own voice was growing heated, and louder. "But he still _wanted_ and _tried_ , ever so ineptly, to help. To be _good."_ Her anger burning hotly, Hermione had to grit her teeth to be able to finish what she wanted to say, the words distorted by her clenched jaw. "He isn't evil. Unethical, manipulative, callous, horrifically egotistical, and incompetent; but not _evil._ "

Her counterpart huffed and turned away. After nearly a minute's silence, she asked, "What do you consider evil then?"

"Cruelty for cruelty's sake, killing for no purpose other than to kill. Murder. Mind Control.... Rape." She spat, arms drawn back around herself as she took careful breathes and focused on her Occlumency, turning her mind into a void empty of memories and emotions with the skills of long nights of practice.

"You don't blame Dumbledore for what happened with... Ron?" The other girl asked curiously, before wincing as Hermione flinched from his name.

_Fear. Hate. Hurt. Make him suffer._

"No. He gave the initial order, maybe. But he didn't... or, at least, there is no evidence he knew how far it went. _She,"_ she jerked her head in the direction of the kitchen, "claimed Dumbledore had only asked her to keep us occupied until the war's end. With nothing more than diversionary draughts and potions to smooth out our grief to prevent us disturbing Harry." She was scowling. " _She_ was under truth serum, couldn't lie. I never got the chance to know if he knew what _She_ had twisted his orders into, or if he was unwitting. With his track record, I truly believe he simply never noticed what was happening right under his nose."

It was much more comfortable to believe that the Headmaster, for all that he was working against them, wasn't abhorrently evil. That the man who had effectively ruled Britain's core of non-dark families and school for decades wasn't s filthy monster hiding in the guise of a kindly shepherd. She would never trust him, never forgive him, but she didn't need the added worry of a grand evil Machiavellian manipulator added to the mountain of woes that resided in her head.

Hermione huffed. "We went off topic, _again._ " She looked at her other self accusingly. "We both love to rant, but we need to reign this in." The other girl gave her much the same look back, and Hermione knew her counterpart believed she was the one who had dragged them off topic.

Hermione was the one who broke the staring contest first, still uneasy from the stresses of thinking her counterpart dead by her mistake. She had believed that she had failed, and she had not been given time to properly recognise it as false due to the cruel questioning that had swiftly followed. "My theory, on why you have these visions, is our magic. It is very similar and I think it is acting like a passive form of legilimency when we magically interact. Like here in this ritual."

"And how exactly does that explain why I saw something while you were having a nightmare?"

"The sleep was magically induced, one identical to what you had woken from recently as well. The two similar magical signatures connected when we touched and bridged an incomplete version of one of my memories to you." Hermione glanced at her other self, who had a pensive expression on her face. "I'm not saying _this_ is the reason, but it is a theory that we can keep and see if it gets disproven."

The other girl gave her a look, then nodded tensely and chewed on her lip. Hermione knew her counterpart was trying to say something and was just trying to get the wording right before she did. Hermione waited for several minutes until she was ready to speak.

"Alright. Now, Mia, I... I'm not going to sit on the fence anymore. I can't say I don't still have my doubts, but I believe you. About the future. About the Weasleys, Molly, the potions."

Hermione had to suppress a flinch at the _Weasel Matron's_ name, but smiled brightly anyway. The suspicion had been painful to bear over the last week, so finally having her other self say she was _believed_ was encouraging. Another bright spark of hope lighting up her largely dismal world.

"I understand if you still don't want to tell me everything, but please, tell me what's going to happen soon. Let me help you prepare." Hermione could hear her desperate _need_ to do something, to not feel helpless and hopeless in the face of the despair their older self had experience.

So she nodded and began talking: about the arrival of the _Weasleys,_ the twin's pranks, the cleaning, destruction and removal of so many ancient artefacts and rare books. The vile and abhorrent stripping of the library of near a thousand texts solely because the _Weasel Queen_ felt they were _dark_ magic. Harry's arrival due to breaking the restrictions on underage sorcery for some reason. There was a lot to cover just for the summer even without entering into any plans for the fight against Tom Riddle.

She wouldn't include her counterpart in the fight against Riddle, not directly. Having her help with the cleansing of the Horcruxes was fine, but the danger involved in collecting them was far too great. There would be other things she needed her counterpart for: rituals she would need help to perform, cover stories and alibis, research and training, keeping Harry happy; but not a fight. No, she wouldn't let her younger, more innocent self experience the nightmares of committing murder first hand. It was bad enough that she had them at all, and Hermione would not allow things to become worse than they already were.

Even with all that still had to be done, Hermione couldn't help feeling happy as they sat in the ritual room. Her other self taking notes on a piece of paper to aid her memory retention. Hermione knew the notes would be destroyed as it was the act of writing the information down that was needed, not reading them back, so their existence wasn't an issue. Just being there with her counterpart, it let her know she wasn't alone. Gave her hope that she could do this, that the two of them could do this. Harry would live, a Hermione would live, and they could have their happily ever after.

She would just have to get out of the way and let it happen.

-oOoOo-

Deciding to believe Mia about Mrs Weasley, The Headmaster, the potions, and all the rest of the manipulations–until evidence to the contrary at least–meant that Hermione was not looking forward to lunch, and not just due to the half dose of Elixir of Sorrows she had taken. Although the feeling of continuously being on the verge of crying certainly did play a part.

They had spent so long down in the ritual chamber they were quite late getting there, but it wasn't too surprising in the first place. It was perfectly normal that they would hole up in their room and refuse to come out. Just so long as no one realised Mia had apparated them from the filthy, dusty, and probably cursed dungeons of the townhouse and back into their room.

When they went to the kitchen, it was host to more guests than she had expected. With Sirius, Mrs Weasley, the Auror–Tonks, she recalled–and a squat, shabby looking ginger-haired man all sitting at the table. Hermione couldn't help wrinkling her nose at the stench of tobacco and alcohol that seemed to fill the room, wafting off of the man in waves.

Taking a glance at Mia, she saw that Mia recognised the newcomer. Although not in a good way, as Mia's face flickered from a scowl of disgust to a merely disapproving frown.

"Hermione! You should have come down for sooner–you can't stay cooped up in your room all day. It's not good for you," Mrs Weasley said as she waved one hand back and forth to scold them.

"If they need time, Molly, then they can have it." Sirius glared at Mrs Weasley. "It's been a day–one day! Don't pressure them." He turned towards them and smiled a little awkwardly. "Hermione, this here" He points at Tonks. "Is my dear cousin _Nymphodora–"_

"Don't call me that!" Tonks snapped, tossing a fork at Sirius. Sirius ducked and dodged the improvised missile with a grin on his face.

"–Tonks. Best not to call her by her first name. I'm her favourite cousin, and she doesn't even let me get away with it." He chuckled as Tonks sat there fuming.

"I'm debating that status of yours, mutt. I've actually met my other non-evil cousin now." She said with a glare.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at her before gesturing to the shabby man. "This is Mundungus Fletcher. He has an interesting story about his shift watching–" Sirius stopped speaking as Hedwig glided gracefully through a window into the room. She landed on the end of the table closest to Hermione and Mia and looked at them confusedly, just as she had several days ago. "Well. Maybe Harry'll tell his side of it?"

Fletcher grumbled wordlessly before getting up, murmuring a small thanks to Mrs Weasley for the food, and heading to the fireplace to Floo out.

Mia tentatively stepped forward to Hedwig, and Hedwig thrust out her leg and the attached letter forcefully. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if the owl was annoyed about something. Maybe the fact there were two of them and made the decision of who was meant to take the letter more difficult for her?

"Hey! Who's it addressed to?" Tonks said jovially, getting up and moving closer.

Not wanting the woman who had helped keep her from spending more time with Harry to get at her mail, Hermione moved up and blocked much of the view of the letter Mia was holding with her body. Amusingly he had addressed it to Hermione Jane Granger and Hermione Jane Granger, writing her name twice on the outside of the letter. His handwriting was as appalling as ever, but she still smiled at the fact he had made the effort to include both of them. Feeling wetness on her face, Hermione wiped at her eyes and found she had started crying without noticing.

Mia gave a short questioning glance at her and then Sirius. It wasn't hard to interpret that Mia was wondering if Hermione was willing to share the letter with Sirius after they finished reading it. She thought back to their conversation with him the previous day. He wasn't in the best position himself but still wanted to help Harry. If the letter wasn't too personal–or too embarrassing–she would be okay with him reading it. So long as they got it back, at least.

After she nodded, Mia opened the letter up and took a seat. Hermione grabbed her own chair and shuffled it as close as she could so they could read the letter together. As they read the letter, Hermione found herself idly stroking Hedwig's feathers. Hedwig leaned into her touch and crooned softly.

_Dear Hermione and Hermione,_

_I really hope Hedwig manages to find you. She looked at me funny when I asked her to take a letter to you both, but I'm not sure if it was because I said 'both' Hermione Grangers or because she doesn't know where you are. I cannot describe how angry I am_ – _not with you. I'm angry that you were taken away by McGonagall and that other woman._

Hermione couldn't help but smile at the fact that Harry had noticed Hedwig's confusion too, and that he said he was angry for her. He cared about her. He cared about what happened to her. With her own opinion of Professor McGonagall diminished and how much better he was making her feel, she might even ignore his slip in proper address towards their head of house.

_I know I couldn't keep you with me at Privet Drive, ~~no matter how much I wanted to,~~ but to just pull you away without letting me say goodbye properly pissed me off something bloody fierce. She's supposed to be our teacher, our head of house, but does she ever do anything? No! She doesn't bloody do anything! A damned Death Eater impersonating a professor has been more helpful to me than she has!_

Or maybe not. It hadn't really occurred to Hermione just how little the professor had done for Harry, but she couldn't recall a single time Professor McGonagall had actually done something for him. To Harry, she must be nothing more than a stern teacher. Which was far from Hermione's experience when asking questions or getting advice after class. Even if he felt that way, that the professor never helped, he should show some respect! At least a little! She huffed and shook her head, bumping lightly into Mia because she had sat so close.

She got a short questioning look in return and rolled her eyes. Mia could certainly guess why she had done that, Mia might not be as respectful as she was anymore, but Mia must still remember being like that before... everything else happened.

_That's not why I was writing this letter. I want to know if you're okay, how ~~you are~~ the two of you are doing, and where you are? If I can sneak away I'll come to you. I know Dumbledore and McGonagall said I needed to stay with the Dursleys for my 'safety', but if it was safe they wouldn't have guards on me, would they?_

Harry's bad habit of not drafting his letters before writing them out properly was showing. He crossed out his mistakes as best he could, but it still wasn't enough to stop her understanding what was underneath. Hermione had far too much practice proof-reading his homework to be unable to decipher the remains of his scrawl.

She couldn't blame this particular mistake of his, however, as it must have been odd trying to ask after her and Mia's well-being rather than just hers. Sadly, his idea to sneak away wouldn't work. He was going to be stuck there into August–they would just have to hope Sirius came through with his idea, or they found another way to contact him.

_I noticed one of the guard changes, by the way, there's a drunk watching me under a dingy invisibility cloak. I tried talking to him, but he ignored me until I kicked him._

_I shouldn't have done it, I know. Sorry Hermione. But I was angry! Still am angry! Turned out he was asleep, and he ran off once he realised what I'd done. Some guard._

Mia gave a little giggle and quietly said, "That explains Fletcher!" which had Hermione herself nodding as the edges of her lips twitched upward into a smile. If Harry could find his guards, creep up on them, and kick them, then they weren't very good. Mundungus Fletcher certainly hadn't appeared reliable when she had looked at him. Hermione couldn't even blame Harry for it, considering the situation he was in. Not that she would tell him that and encourage his behaviour.

_I'm really sorry about your parents. I wish I knew them better and could say something properly, but they were yours and that made them special. You're my best friend, Hermione. I don't think I'd still be alive without you. If you need anything I can do, I'll do it; I have a vault filled with gold, so if you can't pay for what you need like tuition or school supplies, even stuff like girl clothes, I'll give you the money._

Hermione smiled. He was her best friend, and she was his. He was wrong, though. She would be dead if it wasn't for him. Not the other way around. The sentiment just made his offer even more heartwarming, she could just imagine how awkward he must have felt writing about _girl clothes_ to her. They would have to decline, of course, even if he insisted. They were misleading him; he was offering because he thought her–their parents were dead, which they weren't. She would never take anything from Harry under false pretences. It wouldn't be right.

The lie she had needed to tell him, that she was going to have to keep telling him until he could defend his mind, it hurt to think about.

_You mentioned using a phone, so here's the Dursley's number in case you forgot, which you couldn't have because you're you: XXXXX–XXXXXX. The Dursleys are all out of the house on Wednesday afternoons for Dudley's boxing practice. It's best you only call then or Monday mornings, when Petunia goes shopping for groceries._

She hadn't forgotten his number from when he gave it to them at the end of their second year. She should have tried to call him more, but Ron had always put her off, saying how badly his attempt had gone. How much of that should be attributed to Wizards not understand technology. Mia, at least, should be able to reach a pay-phone to call him, since she could apparate.

There was a bump on her shoulder, but she ignored it to continue reading the letter. The only reaction she had was to lean over more, blocking the letter from the view of whomever had nudged her.

_Please be okay,_

_~~Lo~~ _

_Your worried friend, Harry._

_P.S. Don't think I'm ever going to treat you differently because of what happened. You're you, both of you are you. You're both Hermione, the smartest girl in Hogwarts, the loyalest and best friend I could have. Just because there's two of you–even if it is confusing–doesn't change that._

She couldn't have stopped the grin that spread across her face even if she tried. Harry had decided so clearly that he didn't have an issue with there being two of them that he would take it in stride and had declared them both his best and most loyal friends. Just Harry saying that she was his best friend would have made her heart soar. She had always felt he put Ron before her, always felt that Harry looked to him first. To see him put her on the same level, if not higher, was everything she could have hoped for.

Her elation was short-lived as a hand–Mrs Weasley's–snatched away the letter from Mia soon after she had finished reading it just once. "Hey! That's mine! Ours!" she cried, echoed eerily by Mia.

"Molly! Don't take the girls' mail!" Sirius growled as he stood up from where he had been watching them. "You don't have any right to be reading my Godson's correspondence, not unless it's addressed to you."

Hedwig squawked, flapped her wings at Mrs Weasley and took off, away from the offending party. Once she landed atop a cupboard she let out along squawk, and started glaring at the stealer-of-mail.

"Nonsense, Sirius. We need to know what Harry is talking to them about!" Mrs Weasley said as she held the letter out of reach of Hermione's attempt to take it back. "They weren't paying attention when I asked for them to hand it over, so I had to take it."

"Molly, stealing people's mail _is_ a crime and I'm an Auror. Standing _right_ here." Tonks said, standing a polite distance away with a frown on her face.

"Don't be silly, Tonks, Hermione's practically one of mine!" Mrs Weasley huffed, clearly reading the letter. "It's a mother's prerogative to read their children's mail."

Before Hermione could express her own indignation at that statement, Mia had jumped up. "You are _not_ my mother! My–my Mum's dead! I watched her die!" She had tears flowing freely down her face, and Hermione realised that Mia wasn't the only one.

Hermione got up and clasped Mia's hand in support, throwing her own glare at Mrs Weasley. "Not _our_ mother, Mrs Weasley." Hermione said as calmly as she could, which was not very. The Draught of Sorrows was doing its work in causing her voice to hitch and tears to well up.

Under the weight of the four pairs of eyes glaring at her, Mrs Weasley surrendered the letter back to Mia. "Oh, very well! You will have to let us see your reply regardless; you're not allowed to tell him certain things. It's not safe!" She said as she crossed her arms and glowered at them.

Sirius and Tonks nodded, although neither did so with any enthusiasm. "Owls can be intercepted, no offence Hedwig." Sirius said, waving a hand placatingly at Hedwig. "As such, you can't tell him too much that way. I'll help you write one after lunch if you're ready to reply by then."

"Why can't his _guards–"_ Hermione glared pointedly at Tonks. "–take the letters to him? They won't get intercepted."

"Dumbledore's orders. We're supposed to avoid contacting Harry, let him deal with his grief and not make a fuss for him." Tonks had shrunk back a bit from Hermione's glare, unwilling to meet her eye. Hermione barely caught her next words, muttered as they were. "Don't antagonise the girl with the mean head-butt and right-hook. If it happens again you'll never live it down..."

_Is an Auror really afraid of me, or is she faking?_ Hermione found it hard to believe Tonks was actually concerned that she–or Mia–might get the drop on her again. Tonks was an Auror, even if she was a rookie who had only finished her training a few months ago. Hermione smiled at Tonks casually, the attempted intimidation dampened somewhat by her tear-stained cheeks. Since Tonks flashed a grin and winked back in response, it was clear she was just having fun and making a joke. Hermione, at least, wasn't amused. Hermione was still angry with the woman because of her intervention on the previous day.

Frustrated and annoyed at the adults who were illogically keeping Harry as isolated as they could, Hermione tucked away her letter, ignored them, and went about eating her meal with Mia. Hermione waited until had started eating until she did herself, watching Mia cast carefully under the table, out of sight, and confirm their food was safe.

By the time they were finished, Tonks had left to take a 'watch' shift on Harry, while Sirius and Mrs Weasley had started arguing over how much of a right they had to snoop in Hermione's mail, and whether they could trust her to not tell Harry things he shouldn't be _burdened_ with. Which, according to Mrs Weasley, including everything from day-to-day activities to how she felt about her parents' deaths.

_Because anything can be used by the Death Eaters to compromise the Fidelius Charm and invade Headquarters, apparently. Even cleaning._ Hermione mentally scoffed at the absurdity of that idea. Taking Mia's hand, she lead her time-lost duplicate away from the argument and back to their room so they could write their reply to Harry. With or without the _help_ Sirius had offered.

**8th of July, 1995, 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

It had only been an hour and Sirius was already sick of the meeting. He would much rather be sitting with the Granger girls and talking about his godson, Harry, as he had for the later half of the previous day, and much of today's morning and afternoon. The two seemed to have an endless supply of stories to tell, ranging from the mundanity of Hogwarts education all the way up to time-travel based prisoner rescue. He had been a part of the rescue, and he hadn't even known half of what had happened.

Sirius smirked as he realised just how mundane classes must be for his godson with all the hijinks he got up to. Harry didn't even have to go out of the way to make his own trouble; it kept finding him. At least he had his own marauder buddy, or buddies now, to help him through it, and a pretty pair at that! They were hardly perfect, but what witch was?

He'd managed to hear a fair amount while he was helping them draft their reply to Harry's letter, keeping their location and who they were staying with secret, but letting them spill their emotions as much as they liked. Molly would have thrown a fit about some of the things he let the girls' write, but if they wanted to commiserate about being angry with their... kidnappers, or insult Emmaline's apparition skills then who was he to stop them? They didn't mention anyone by name, so it was all fine.

It had been fun to do. He had been in the house for a week, and he rarely had someone to talk to other than Kreacher or his mother's painting. Seeing them deliberate over telling Harry off for kicking 'Dung had certainly been the highlight of the previous day. It had been like he was watching Moony be indecisive about pranking a teacher all over again, his respect for their educators warring with his mischievous streak as it so often had.

Remus nudged him out of his thoughts, dragging his attention back to the–incredibly boring–meeting. They were still watching Harry, still placing people outside the Department of Mysteries, still keeping an eye on priority Muggle targets. There was nothing about fighting back, nothing about gathering real evidence with which to do something useful. Just like in the last war, Dumbledore was playing passive, refusing to make the first move.

Not that he had expected any different. The only reason he had agreed to host the order was solely on the promise of seeing Harry over the summer. For most of the summer. At least he had gotten the mirror from Remus; now he just had to get it to Harry, since Dumbledore didn't seem like he would be working terribly hard to keep his promise.

"–and that concludes everything springing up in the Auror office. Bones really wasn't happy to find out Yaxley was marked and had gotten as high as he had." Moody said as he took a swig from his flask. Still reeking, as he always did, of half-healed wounds and old curses.

_Should have paid attention sooner, that actually sounded useful._ _If only the rest of the meeting had been like that..._

"Thank you, Alastor." Dumbledore said as he turned to peer at Molly over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "Onto the last order of business for the day, how... are the Misses Granger settling in?"

"They're grieving but–" Sirius started before he was interrupted by Molly's dulcet tones.

"They've holed themselves up in their room, barely come out to eat and aren't listening to anyone! You need to do something, Albus, whatever caused them to... to duplicate like that, it can only be dark magic!"

"Now, now Molly... we can't just assume it was dark magic. Alastor, did anything about them seem dark to you?"

"Not a bit, they're both as _light_ as any of us here. More than most of us." Moody swirled his eye upward, looking towards the girls' bedroom. Sirius was glad the wards were up, otherwise Moody might be able to see them even if they were bathing. "Even with one of them having a head count now..."

"I still don't believe it, the stories Ronnie has told me... she started reading forbidden books in her second year, at twelve!" Molly wrung her hands. "She brewed a potion to turn herself into part cat over Christmas, and tried to have Ron and Harry test it! She could have killed them! She has _killed!_ "

"Thirteen, it was just polyjuice... and who here _hasn't_ killed a Death Eater?" Sirius muttered, knowing that if he tried to speak up, all he would do is induce Molly into louder screeching.

"There's that nonsense with the elves. She just doesn't understand that some things should be left alone! And we can't forget about how she potioned poor Harry and that Bulgarian boy, flaunting herself and leading them on like that. She needs to be kept in line, and whatever experiment made this mess undone!"

"Molly. Molly!" Dumbledore was slow to raise his voice, and even when he did it wasn't terribly loud. Nevertheless, it drew all eyes in the room and had Molly closing her mouth carefully. "If Alastor says there was no dark magic involved, I will believe him. I will examine them myself, of course, as I am experienced enough with time-turners to tell a true one from a fake, and detect the residue left behind by those who make use of them." He glanced at Sirius. "Something I found myself able to practice extensively not so long ago."

Molly frowned. "Just so long as you do _something,_ Albus."

McGonagall spoke up next. "Sirius, how have you found them?"

Sirius was a little surprised for his former professor to be asking his opinion, the headmaster certainly didn't seem interested in it by the look on his face. "They are... grieving. They need space, time to themselves. I spoke to them for several hours yesterday, about their classes, the troubles Harry gets himself wrapped up in. They never mentioned their parents, and refused what help I've offered... I don't think they've come to terms with their losses yet." _Not that I have either, and I've had over a decade._

"The know-it-all will bounce back to her aggravating self soon enough. Is there any reason for the rest of us to remain while you talk about such pointless drivel?" Snivellus was sneering as he always did, and Sirius couldn't help the growl that escaped his throat.

Those girls didn't deserve such treatment, and if Sirius knew Snivellus–and he _did_ –then they must have already suffered through four years of such treatment alongside Harry and anyone else whom the slimy git decided was worth insulting.

"Alastor, Sirius, Remus, please stay. Everyone else you are free to leave if you choose, Severus is right that this is not a matter for the whole of the order." Dumbledore twinkled at them. "If you are curious, however, you may remain."

"They deserve some privacy. Anyone who isn't needed should leave." Sirius growled as he stood up. "I'll go fetch them."

"Let me handle that, Sirius."

"No, Molly. I set up the wards to allow them privacy." He _hadn't_ , but someone had. How they had gotten partial control over the wards, he didn't know, but for the moment he would cover for them. "I can get through even if they're reluctant, and as this is important," Sirius nodded at Dumbledore. "If I have to drag them out, I will."

Everyone except McGonagall, Remus, Molly, Dumbledore and Mad-Eye were headed towards the Floo by the time Sirius had made his way out of the kitchen.

–oOoOo–

It didn't take much to get the girls and come back. They had been in bed, yes, but fully clothed, above the covers, and reading the book he had gifted them. Once he had told them Dumbledore was here to see them, they had scowled slightly, eerily in sync once again, but had agreed to come down immediately. _So much for not listening to anyone, right Molly?_

That they didn't seem to be holding their headmaster in much esteem was yet one more piece to the puzzle that was the newly formed Hermione Twins. A puzzle Sirius certainly planned to solve, but he wasn't in any hurry and wouldn't do anything to his godson's friends. Except maybe a prank to lighten the mood, rile them up a bit. Wouldn't do to let them stew alone for _too_ long.

"I don't want to hear it, Molly!" Minevra's voice rang out loudly as Sirius opened the door to the kitchen, breaking the silencing charms. "I won't be giving–" She cut off at the sight of them and continued after settling herself somewhat. "Sirius." She nodded to him. "Miss Granger, Miss Granger. Please, take a seat."

The room had been rearranged a little in Sirius' absence. The table had been shrunk down so it only occupied half of the room rather than its full length, and two chairs had been placed in the now open space. Worryingly, it looked a little like an interrogation setup to Sirius. Which he wouldn't stand for.

"Fascinating," Dumbledore murmured, his wand already drawn. As soon as the two girls were in the room and seated, he began walking around them, casting spell after spell, only the barest few Sirius could even guess the nature of. Many he likely did know, but Dumbledore's wand-work was swift, subtle, and flawless, making it incredibly difficult to determine what spells he used since he didn't bother at all with incantations.

"I must agree with your assessment, Alastor. Neither of them have made use of dark magic. Lingering evidence of their... mishaps from their second year, the residue from their third, and much more recently..." He singled out one of them, bowing down to look her in the eye. She met his gaze steadily although she did start fidgeting. "You're the one for whom the time-turner worked, correct?"

"Yes," She said with a nod. "Do you... want to see it?"

"That would certainly be helpful, my dear."

She reached under her shirt and pulled out a battered and twisted time-turner, the rings that suspended the hourglass twisted and warped away. Even if it did work, it wouldn't be safe to use. By the look on her face, Hermione must have known that too, desperation forcing the use of a dangerous artifact to escape... Sirius couldn't fault her for her decision, not in the slightest. Not considering what might have happened had she delayed.

"May I?" Dumbledore reached for the chain, about to remove it from the girl's neck.

"No!" She dropped the time-turner to put her hands up protectively and backed away, knocking her chair over in the process. "No! I haven't–I won't take it off! What if it's the only thing keeping me here? What if taking it off kills me? What if–"

"Calm down, Miss Granger. None of those possibilities–"

"Have you had this happen before? You gave me a time-turner to use for extra classes! Were you insane?!" The second Hermione had gotten up and moved next to her... sister? Twin? Copy? And placed her hand on the first Hermione's shoulder. "Don't you dare... I lost–my mum and dad are gone... don't you dare try to take my... take her away from me too." She was glaring at Dumbledore through tear-filled eyes.

Sirius frowned it came to him he had no idea how they referred to each other, or how they wanted to be referred to. Something he would need to ask.

"Miss Granger, please calm down. I meant you no harm. Either of you." Dumbledore had raised his hands placatingly. "I understand you are both worried, but there is no possible way that..." He trailed off, frowning as he stared at the time-turner. Something Sirius refused to do, as he refused to be a dirty old man towards a girl less than half his age, let alone one who was also his Godson's best friend.

"Hm. Alastor, does it appear magical to you at all?"

"No. Whatever magic it might have had is long gone."

"Curious. Allow me to cast a spell on it directly, Miss Granger. While you are still wearing it."

They nodded, and Dumbledore lifted the time-turner up so it remained around her neck but hung away from her. Whatever spell he cast on it took over a minute to complete and involved more intricate wand movements than any Sirius had ever seen outside of an Arithmancy example spell.

"No, whatever magics suffused this device are long faded. It is certainly a legitimate device from the Department of Mysteries, but it..." He looked up and stared the Hermione wearing the time-turner in the eye. "It is the same one you were provided with to complete your studies. If anyone else had used it, lacking the already existing connection between you and the device..." He let go of the time-turner to stroke his beard and started pacing. "I do not care to think what might have happened."

"So we...?"

"Whatever has happened, Miss Granger, is either permanent or not. You are more drenched in time-magic than all but the most powerful devices, ones that have never seen use." He looked between them slowly. "I do believe we will have a new student to add to the rolls come this September. Do not worry, I will provide a suitable cover story for the ministry; some long-lost twin perhaps, who had studied magic elsewhere before today..." He trailed off slowly, stopping his pacing to examine both of the Hermiones from head to toe.

"It is of no matter. Are you able to provide for your school supplies and tuition?" Dumbledore asked.

"If they can't, then I will." McGonagall replied, "I won't lose one of my best students to a magical mishap. Especially..." She looked over at the girls, pausing briefly as she made a decision. "Especially not my only good choice for the girl's prefect. You will have your work cut out for you, as of the current prefects only the seventh years were of any use, and they have since graduated." In a rare show of emotion, McGonagall smiled. "You, of course, have the advantage of... having help."

It dawned on Sirius that McGonagall had just granted Hermione permission to trade her coming prefect badge between them, as if they were both prefects. "Hah! Make sure you both check out the prefect's bath, it's _incredible._ " Sirius grinned, enjoying the memories of sneaking into the bath with Remus and James in his school days.

"And how, exactly, would you know that Mr Black?" Professor McGonagall turned to him and made Sirius feel like he was being scolded and put into detention once again. "I do not recall you ever becoming a prefect of Gryffindor."

"Well, I, er." He looked guiltily at Remus, who he suddenly noticed had been staring at the Hermione who was wearing the time-turning ever since she entered the room. "Remus? What are you doing?"

"Mr Black?"

"Sirius, does she...?" Remus tapped his nose.

"Ah, yes. One of them killed while the other..." He shrugged. He had kept his voice low, knowing Remus would catch his words easily, and was rewarded with a nod in response. No elaboration as to why Remus was focused so intently on the girls, however.

"Hm. Mr Lupin, perhaps you would like to answer how Mr Black gained knowledge of the prefect's bathroom without ever having been a prefect?"

Remus, for all that he was a werewolf, looked remarkably like... what was Lily's saying? A deer in the lights? His eyes were wide open, his face all startled and frozen stiff.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I believe that is enough, Minerva. I am satisfied with my examination; perhaps once you are less afraid to take the time-turner off, you might allow me to study it, Miss Granger?"

She nodded hesitantly.

"Good, good. I am satisfied, but does anyone have any objections?"

Everyone shook their head, except Molly.

" _Headmaster._ " Her arms were crossed, and her face pulled into a terrible scowl.

"Yes, Molly. I understand, I will handle that side of things as soon as I can."

Molly huffed but nodded her acceptance.

"With that, then, I call this meeting of the Order of the Phoenix to a close. Thank you for your assistance: Molly, Alastor, Minevra. Remus, I would like to speak with you in my office, if you would."

"Of course, Headmaster."

As everyone left through the Floo, Sirius turned back to the girls who had sagged into each other, presumably in relief that their latest interrogation was over. "So! How about you tell me about what happened this last year, outside of the tasks." He grinned. "Harry has told me you looked _ravishing_ at the Yule Ball, so much so he regretted not asking you dearly!"

He got exactly the reaction he wanted as they both blushed. It would be entertaining for him, hearing about Hogwarts and his godson, but perhaps more importantly it would help keep the girls' minds off of their recent loss. Grief he understood, and guilt too. That they had let children be the first to suffer from the renewed war ate at his heart, and he knew he'd be in a bottle before the night's end.

But until then, he had stories to listen to and teenagers to embarrass.


	7. Ch. VII - Hermione and the Weasleys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the major events of the start of summer over, things will start moving a little faster date-wise. This means more, smaller, scenes.
> 
> Theoretically, anyway.
> 
> Many thanks to Tyrannic_Puppy for providing comments and beta work on this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: Did the author change the middle name of one their main characters just so they could give it to a minor villain? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.

**8th of July, 1995,  Num. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

"Mia? Why do you have the time-turner from my–our third year?" Hermione asked once Sirius had finally had his fill of hearing stories about her time at Hogwarts with Harry for the evening and left them alone in their room.

"It was a gift. A nineteenth birthday present... and the last time she–the older Hermione–spoke to Harry before he died." Mia absently twirled the time-turner on its chain, occasionally twisting the broken housing back into shape before it could fall apart completely.

"Who gave it to her?" Hermione already knew what the answer would be in her heart, but she didn't want to believe it. That her older self would cut Harry off for giving her such a sentimental gift. _Why? Why would she?_

"Harry." Mia clenched the time-turner in her fist. "It was... it was after the _binding_ had happened. An early birthday in August. Before she went back to Hogwarts for her seventh year. Just after her... _return_ from bringing back her parents..." Mia trailed off quietly, her eyes shut tight and a grimace marring her face.

Hermione leaned over to hug Mia, pressing her cheek against Mia's and wrapping one around the other girl's shoulders. With her other hand she gently grasped the clenched fist holding the time-turner. It was sentiment, pure sentiment. A useless object broken beyond all repair, but it was a memory of helping Harry. Of seeing him joyous for rescuing his godfather, and when proved himself casting the Patronus for the first time.

It mattered. To that older self who had suffered so much, to the one who had been broken once again after being restored, and to herself. Mia would tell her in time, she wasn't holding back. Hermione didn't need to press or push for answers, to hurt her again. 

She just need to wait. 

For several minutes they sat together. Slightly leaning into one another as she went over the excitement, terror, and closeness she had felt with Harry during that long, long day in June. She hoped Mia was doing the same, dwelling on happier memories, rather than the demons that haunted her.

"They had made us lie, to say our parents were alive... But _he, He_ decided– _He_ wanted to have–to have _her_ alone for enough time, so _He_ had her claim to go to Australia. To retrieve them and their memories." Mia didn't speak loudly nor quickly, and every so often she would quiver and take in a deep breath. Pause and steady herself before continuing.

It sounded so unreal, so unbelievable, but Hermione had already felt some of the emotions which Mia was now experiencing. She couldn't dismiss what she was being told, it was all too understandable now. Too easy for her to relate to the hopeless–helpless–despair they had gone through in that dark future.

Hermione pulled her head away slightly so she could look Mia in the eyes, from which tears were welling up and falling freely. Mia smiled a sad watery smile and began to speak again.

"When she received the gift she was overjoyed, even in the pit which she had been thrown there was still... something. Harry. Hope." Mia stopped talking and bit into her lip, leaving behind a clearly visible mark when she began speaking again minutes later. 

" _He–Ronald–_ decided it was... over. _He_ gave her an order, to tell Harry that–" She choked back a sob. "That her parents didn't want her to be endangered by him anymore. That to keep them in her life she would have to give him up."

Hermione scrunched her own face up in sympathy; Harry would never stand between someone and their parents, no matter what. He would have said goodbye and pushed her away himself, despite any feelings of his own. _Wasn't it enough, to take away her parents, her choices, her life? Did she have to lose her best friend too?_

"He accepted, of course. It wasn't until six years later that they interacted again, and that was– it was–Harry jumped in front of a spell. He took a curse for her and died. He died in her arms."

Hermione closed her eyes and buried her face into Mia’s shoulder. The reality of Harry’s mortality, the possibility of his death was too easy to contemplate. She could remember seeing Harry badly hurt, nearly dying, more times than she wanted to. His coma after his encounter with Professor Quirrel and Riddle in first year, falling from his broom in third year, the dragon from the first task, and his shaking form clutching Cedric when he escaped from Voldemort at the end of the Tournament.

She took in a shuddering breath–and sobbed as the image of Harry replaced that of Cedric in her mind. His green eyes empty and lifeless, staring at nothing. 

"It's okay, Hermione." Mia cooed, "He's alive. Harry's alive and well. Nothing has happened. We're safe. Harry is safe. It won't happen this time."

Hermione nodded slowly, trying not to cry. She hadn’t understood on the day she had been collected– _kidnapped_ –by Mia what Mia meant about Harry dying because of her. Because he never gave up on her. Now she did understand, and it hurt. She didn't say anything. She just sat in silence with Mia as they both stared at the time-turner. Stared at the symbol of how much they meant to Harry.

**10th of July, 1995,  Num. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

It was lunch on the tenth of July that it finally happened. When Hermione had gone to eat without thinking after an exhausting morning's work cleaning rooms for the coming Weasley brood, Mia had nudged her to catch her attention. Mia gestured towards Kreacher who stood quietly in the corner watching them. In his hands was a pair of potion bottles, which he mimed pouring over a stolen sandwich. Her stomach rebelled, she had been thinking and contemplating what it meant to be fed potions against her will for days. Ever since she had promised that she would trust Mia.

She pulled off part of one of her sandwiches and held it below the table, carefully casting the revealing spell on it out of sight of both Sirius and Mrs Weasley. The food glowed. A light, faded blue, threaded with a vibrant, shimmering, pink and a soft, diffused green. A mixture of emotion suppression, loyalty and attraction potions, according to the books Mia had provided her with on that final day of June.

She felt sick, like she wanted to vomit. She dropped the piece of food she had taken to the floor and covered her mouth with her hand. Next to Her Mia was simply staring at her food.

"I–I'm not feeling well," Hermione managed to say through the cover of her hand. "I'm going back to my room." She got up and left, leaving behind a frowning Mrs Weasley and Sirius, who both stared after her as she went. Mia didn't take long to follow behind and brought both plates of sandwiches with her. They walked back to their room in silence–as much as Hermione wished she could speak on the way they couldn't. They needed the privacy of the master bedroom’s wards.

Once they were safely ensconced in the room, Mia managed to get the first word in. "A bit abrupt, Hermione, we can't risk raising her– _Molly's_ –suspicion too much." The way Mia said Mrs Weasley's name like a curse had never seemed more appropriate than that moment.

"I know. I just..."

"I understand. It all came crashing down at once, didn't it?

"Yes," and that was it, Mia understood. She understood perfectly. "Thank you."

"What?" Mia paused as she was putting the plates down on the desk in the room and turned to look at Hermione with a raised brow.  "Why did you thank me?"

"Because you are here. Because you are stopping this."

"Oh. I,” Mia blushed. “You're welcome, Hermione. I want... to thank you too, for believing me. For trusting me." Mia smiled brightly, putting the plates down and drawing her wand. "Now, lets figure out _exactly_ what they put in these. While I do have general flushing draughts for emergencies, knowing and making a specific antidote would be far simpler. Not to mention less..." She trailed off, sticking her tongue out and gagging. "Eugh. Let's just say flushing potions are terrible to take, and leave it at that."

Hermione was curious, as she always was, but she remembered seeing mention of flushing potions in one of her potions books, so she left Mia to her task and went to find the answer herself. It didn't take too long to check through the books, and when she had finished she agreed with Mia completely. Flushing potions dealt with foreign agents by the simplest method possible: voiding _everything_. They had to be accompanied by an immense intake of water due to loss of fluids along with a healthy diet to recover from the ordeal over the next few weeks. An option of last resort to deal with an unknown agent in the body.

She had begun to go through all the books looking for the texts on brewing counter-agents and antidotes when she remembered something important, that both of them had forgotten.

"Kreacher?"

With a pop he appeared in the room. "Yes, _Mudblood_ girl?" His tone was condescending, but lacking much of his usual spite. Something she attributed to the help she and Mia had given him in protecting the Black family heirlooms over the last two days.

"Thank you for warning us."

"We _have_ a deal, girl-spawn of muggles. Kreacher upholds word and honour of Noble House of Black, would even with filth." He sneered. "Is there anything _else?_ "

Hermione blinked at Kreacher’s words, uncertain of the implications of his phrasing. "Ah... are you able to... prevent her potioning our food?" _Did he imply we weren’t filth? That’s… that would be progress!_

"Kreacher could swap Mudblood's meals with another, but traitor-broodmare watches her food too carefully when cooking." His shrivelled ears flopped back and forth as he shook his head. "Not work now. Need more meals to swap food with, more plates than traitor-broodmare can watch. Good way to pay blood-traitors back for defiling house of Black." He stopped suddenly, going still. After a moment his eyes widened at Hermione, and he bared his teeth. "Kreacher will keep wretched mudblood girls safe, yes. Kreacher will do as he must to avenge his master."

He popped away abruptly. _Why did he stop like that and leave like that? It was almost like we were getting along._ Hermione shook her head, her untamed hair bouncing everywhere. Heaving a sigh she went back to her books, leaving the issue of angry house-elves for another time. She had methods with which to protect herself she needed to study. Ones she was now certain would only become more necessary as time went on.

Unfortunately there was a distinct lack of general purpose counter-agents for potions like those she was faced with. Poisons were far easier, the Bezoar was a general purpose counter-agent that worked on _anything_. To some degree, at least.

Almost all of the counter-agents she managed to find in her and Mia's books were for specific potions, sometimes specific variants of a potion. Only a scant few worked on a wider spectrum, and all of those were anti-lust potions. Love, loyalty, emotion dampening, and fake emotion potions all required specific agents. The books even noted that many potions didn't have _any_ counter-agents!

There were so many variations on potions that stole someone's free will or controlled their emotions it made her feel ill. Magic was wonderful, amazing, inspiring, but it could also permit the most vile of violations. That there were more ways to steal away a person's free will than to heal cuts or broken bones made Hermione sick to her stomach.

"I'm not sure I want to stay in the magical world." Hermione said, as she dropped the book beside her and clutched at her roiling stomach.

"What?"

"How can there be so many ways for people to take control of people like that? Half of them aren't even illegal, just restricted! It's as if wizards spend more time trying to enslave one another rather than making their own lives better, or think that the only way for someone to feel love is through a potion! I thought house elves were bad, that slavery was wrong, but this isn't any better. Maybe it's even worse, a secret sort of slavery.

"I don't know why." Mia answered, frowning at the results of her spells she had been casting. "It's part of their culture, in a way. The parents decide for their children, and compliance is forced by any means necessary. It was much worse in the past. Back then arranged marriages were the norm, and if the match wasn't mutually loving... it could be made to be." Mia turned to Hermione and looked her in the eye. "If, once we're done saving Harry and have graduated from Hogwarts, we want to leave the wizarding world... we'll need to keep up with our muggle education."

"We're already years behind."

Mia smiled encouragingly. "You can catch up. You know you can. The only problem would be convincing Harry to come with us."

"With how you've said everyone treats him and how he feels about his fame would it really be that hard?"

Mia turned back and cast one more spell on her samples as Hermione watched. "Maybe, maybe not. It's better than the Dursleys but–Merlin! That– _that_ _bitch!_ " Mia leapt up from the desk and stood there quivering with her hands clenched at her sides while she glared at the offending plate of food.

Hermione recoiled backwards away from Mia. "What?"

"The emotional manipulation potions in the food, they're there to make us forget our parents and replace them in our heads with _Molly_." Mia growled, "They had to have taken hair from the dummies I made. The keying isn't real enough to work, but that's definitely where they got it from." After a few more moments shaking and glaring she tore herself away and dropped onto the bed next to Hermione.

"I hate her. I will always hate her. I don't want you to think less of me, Hermione, but I think I'm going to kill her before the end."

A shiver ran down Hermione's spine at the finality of Mia's statement. Carefully she reached out and grabbed her counterpart's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Hopefully it won't come to that." She said softly, hoping that Mia wouldn't have to go done the path that had led to their older self killing Neville like she had. That Mia could at least retain some of her innocence in this... _war_.

**11th of July, 1995,  Num. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

The last three days had all been busy, even the disturbing and sickening truth of the potions in Mrs Weasley's food hadn't been enough to stop them from being forced into more work. Mrs Weasley, it turned out, thought leisure activities, such as studying, reading, and talking all made for idle hands, and as that old saying goes, idle hands are the devil's playthings. Not that Mrs Weasley had used, or even knew, that particular Muggle phrase. 

Thanks to Mrs Weasley’s overbearing attempts to mother them both They had only managed to escape her growing presence in the mornings before breakfast. The rest of the time they were ordered around and followed to ensure they at least began to obey, or were ranted at for being lazy and unhelpful. It was tempting to just stay in their room where Mrs Weasley couldn’t reach them, but it would just make things worse in the long run.

Since it was the only time they could sneak away each morning Mia apparated them back into the dungeons. They had cleared and cleaned the old duelling chamber to use for practising self-defence. Not that they had gotten particularly far yet; Mia only had her doing dodging drills and exercising so far–neither of which she was enjoying _at all._ Hermione would much rather be reading more books from the library than jumping about in a dark padded room.

The rest of their days had been filled with carefully sorting–without touching–dangerous dark items from the more benign heirlooms that filled the house and wiping out infestations of magical pests. Not every room had something maliciously dangerous in it, but every single one had been infested by at least one sort of magical creature. Fortunately Mrs Weasley never bothered to supervise the two of them, so they could make use of their wands freely. Hermione still found the idea of using spray bottles to fight venomous creatures like Doxies ridiculous. No matter what _Lockhart_ had to say on the matter.

Kreacher had been helpful as well, taking away everything that wasn't dangerous but would have otherwise been thrown out and secreting them away. Some items Hermione felt a little leery about, like the blood-trackers and health monitors. However, just as Mia had said, blood magic wasn't good or bad... just dangerous and mis-usable. Just like all magic could be misused, really. She hadn't thought much of cheering charm when they learnt it in third year, believing it somewhat frivolous. Now... now it seemed much like the Draught of Sorrow she had taken, or the anti-grief potions Mrs Weasley had tried slip into their food.

Without consent, the charm would be a clear violation of a person's free will. Lesser in degree to something like the Imperius Curse, but a violation nevertheless.

All of that needed to be put aside, however, as today was the day the Weasleys were arriving. Ron, Fred, George, Ginny, Mrs Weasley and Mr Weasley would be arriving, having dinner, and taking up residence. If Mrs Weasley had had her way they would have been forced out of their room and in to one with Ginny. Thankfully Sirius had put his foot down. He was taking her side a lot for some reason, and he was even keeping their secrets. He hadn't mentioned Mia's taking control of the master bedroom's wards at any point, not even to her or Mia.

Hermione forced herself to cut her introspection short as Ginny stepped out of the kitchen's fireplace.

"Hi, Hermione!" Ginny said, a slight smile crossed her face. "Wow, there really are two of you. You need to tell me that story."

Hermione grimaced and quietly said, "I would... rather not, Ginny, if that's alright."

Ginny frowned, but didn't get a chance to speak as the twins barrelled out of the Floo together.

They both had manic grins across their faces as they looked Hermione and Mia over. "Well, look at that–" "–someone decided they needed to emulate–" "–the _best_ Weasleys of all–" "–and make themselves a twin." One of the two started scratching his chin while the other gave a short bow. "While we are flattered,–" "–you will need–" –to tell us _how–"_ "–you achieved such a feat–" "–if you wish to enter our good graces–" "–for good, Miss–" "–future prefect."

Hermione let out a sigh at the same time Mia did the same then rolled her eyes at them. She knew that the twins had every intention of making her time as a prefect as difficult as they had made Percy’s. She looked up at them with a frown, and by the suddenly raised eyebrows on the three Weasley's faces she knew she had been in sync with Mia once again. _They’re going either going to praise us for that, or claim we’re copying their style… and I don’t know which would be worse._

Ron was the next to stumble out of the Floo, and just as Hermione had expected she saw Mia tense out of the corner of her eye. She grabbed Mia's hand in an attempt to support her. Hermione was well aware Ron would be the hardest person for Mia to confront of them all, but if she could manage this they were going to be fine.

"Blimey, I thought Mum was joking when she said there were two of you." Ron had that same lopsided grin on his face that he always did when he thought he was being funny. "Guess I'll have twice as much of an easier time with homework now with you around, eh?" He moved up to them and, as Hermione had stepped forward, threw an arm around Hermione's shoulder.

"Honestly, Ron! You need to do your own homework so you understand it." Hermione said exasperatedly, with none of the emotion at all faked. "I'm not helping you until you finish them yourself, and even then I'll only check them over." She glared at him until he let go of her and backed off slightly.

"Oh come on, Hermione." He looked between the two of them. "Hermione? Um. Er... This is confusing. I know! I should give you nicknames! Hermione's always been such a handful to say anyway," his smile grew into a smirk as he spoke, "and since there are two of you we need _something_ to tell you apart." His smirk had grown as wide as it could and his eyes glinted in a way that showed he thought that he had just had the most _brilliant_ idea. "So," he pointed at Mia, "you can be... Miney," He pointed at Hermione, causing her to frown. "and you can be Herms!"

Hermione bristled, insulted by the horrible nickname he tried to give her–her name is _hers._ She is proud of it and its origins, but before she could speak herself Mia exploded at him. 

"My name is Hermione Jane Granger! Not 'Miney'! Not 'Herms'! Don't you _ever_ call me or her either of those!" Mia was shaking, vibrating, her arms were held tightly to her side, her fists clenched, and her legs were set in a combative stance Hermione recognised from their self-defence practice.

Ron, however, didn't back down. "Jane?" He said with his eyes wide and ears turning red. "I thought your middle name was Jean!"

Hermione hissed through her teeth. She knew that she had told him, even if it had been nearly two years ago. Maybe at some other time it would have been easily forgivable, but right then? If things had been more real it would have been far too hurtful. "I was named after my mother." Hermione said coldly, "My mother _Jane_ Anne Granger." Hermione forced herself to sob as best as she could. "My dead Mum... you don't even remember her NAME!" She hadn't meant to shout at the end, but her anger with Ron had become more real than she had expected.

Mia squeezed the hand that they hand kept linked throughout the Weasley's arrival. Everyone else in the room had gone quiet at her outburst, and Sirius was off to the side shaking his head with a frown on his face.

"You don't even remember, do you? We went to Hogsmeade in third year, without Harry. It was Mum's... Mum's birthday in October. So I got her a present and you asked why I bought something so _fun."_ She glared at him, remembering the insult from two years ago. "I told you it was for my mother. I had the shopkeep write her name on it in front of you! And you forgot! She's dead and you forgot!"

Hermione was breathing heavily from all the shouting. Ron, still stood in front of her, had turned red either from embarrassment or anger–it was impossible to tell with him.

"You even went with me to the post office to send it! You heard me tell the owl where to go and who to give it to!"

Despite knowing her parents weren’t dead, that they were safe, and far away from Britain, Hermione still found herself losing control. She hadn’t gotten to see her Mum or Dad this summer since both had been sent to France before the Express had even left Hogwarts. The fact that Ron, someone she had considered her friend, could be so insensitive about her name–about her mother’s name when he thought her Mum was dead, it hurt. 

She held tightly onto Mia’s hand as she stormed out of the room, dragging Mia along all the way up to their bedroom where she threw herself onto the bed with a cry of outrage.

A hand came to rest on Hermione’s shoulder. “Don’t let _him_ get to you, Hermione, not by just being who _he_ is. _He_ ’s not worth the anger, frustration, or the time.” Mia said, her own voice failing to hide her anger. “The best thing we can do for now is just ignore _Him_. _He_ ’ll hate us for doing that, and that just makes it all the better.”

Hermione nodded stiffly and lay herself down on the bed, one arm covering her eyes as she tried to calm her breathing and heartbeat. _I don’t know why I expected better from Ron. It’s not like this is the first he has been so thoughtless and hurtful._ Hermione rolled onto her side and caught Mia’s gaze. She nodded at Mia in wordless agreement, too angry to speak.

Unless Ron apologised she would treat him just as he had treated her in third year, and how he had treated Harry last November.  It was a good excuse to avoid him, since he could well be in on the plot to potion them. Of all the things Ron was, he wasn't a snitch. He could be keeping a secret from them if he wanted to.

**12th of July, 1995,  Num. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

Hermione was certain yesterday could have gone worse, but it could also have gone much better. _Him_ putting _his_ foot in _his_ mouth like _he_ did and upsetting her other self had been hurtful, but also helpful in its own way. In a way she was happy _he_ had done it. Her duplicate was now stubbornly ignoring him much like she herself was; much to _his_ frustration since _he_ _desperately_ wanted someone to play chess with or talk quidditch at. Ginny, Fred, and George all refused since they were long since bored of _his_ rather lacklustre range of interests.

She wasn't all too sure how she felt about Ginny and the twins. Hermione knew the twins would propagate love potions to the masses, something she _despised_ , but they didn't seem the type to be involved in what had happened to her older self. Fred had been dead and George catatonic with grief by the time her older self had gotten free, so she didn’t know if they had been involved or not. Ginny had been part of it by the end, but only after she had already started dating Harry. If her string of boyfriends had been any indication she had been over her crush before they had kissed in sixth year. 

They still bore watching, they were _Weasleys_ after all, but that didn't mean she could condemn them all without justification. She didn't want to be the Hermione who killed everyone who had hurt her. Neither Harry nor her counterpart would ever look at her with anything other than loathing if she went down that path. 

No matter how much she just wanted to take _Him_ and rip _His_ balls off and feed them to the crows, she couldn't do it. Not yet anyway. Maybe they would want to do it themselves when he showed his true colours.

_Hurt me. Ruined everything. Deserves to suffer._

She would just have to be patient.

In the meantime Hermione had a duplicate that needed teaching. Dodging spells, and being fit enough to _keep_ dodging spells for elongated periods of time was only the first thing she needed to learn. Spell chaining and fighting back would come later. Preferably when Harry was around as well. Hermione was well aware that she defaulted to tactics a little too lethal for practice spars, and they would benefit from learning together.

–oOoOo–

"Cm'on, H'rmi'ne!" _He,_ as ever, was speaking with his mouth full. Not quite spraying food everywhere, thankfully, but mangling English in a way no native speaker should ever be permitted to. Not to mention the disgusting display presented within _his_ yawning maw of a mouth every time _he_ did speak.

He swallowed noisily and smacked his lips before he spoke again. "You need to stop ignoring me! Fred and George refuse to play Chess so you've got to play against me."

Lunch was becoming another tiresome affair, but Hermione's other half needed to eat if their morning exercises were ever going to make a difference. Kreacher had assured them before breakfast that with more mouths at the table he would be able to swap the meals around and no potions would reach their food. Instead some unlucky redhead would get to experience their mother's _lovely_ special food. That idea of Ginny, one of the twins–or maybe even the _Mother Weasel_ herself becoming attracted and loyal to dear _Ronald_ was an amusing one. It wasn't even likely to get linked back to them. After all, it was exactly what a malicious house elf might do to unwanted guests.

"Dear brother mine–" "–of ours,–" "–one might suspect that the lady is a mite–" "–pissed off–" "–that you forgot her deceased mother's name."

“It was years ago! How was I supposed to remember?” _His_ ears turned red as _he_ shoveled more food into _his_ maw.

Hermione rubbed her head in response to the twin-patter. She was shankful she and her counterpart hadn't quite started doing that. Occasionally saying the same thing at the same time was fine, as was reacting to events in similar was. They thought very similarly after all. Finishing each other's sentences, however, would just be annoying.

"They're right Ron. I don't think Hermione's going to even look at you until you apologise." Ginny said as she finished her plate of food.

  _He_ glared at Ginny. "She's the one who blew up at me!"

Trying to guess who was the lucky red-head to get the potion doses was an interesting game. Not quite enough to let her ignore the conversation, but it helped keep her mind off of the fact she was sitting at a table with _Him_.

Fortunately they had both finished eating by the time Sirius opened the kitchen's dingy little window to let Hedwig and Pidwidgeon fly in. Pidwideon landed next to _Ron_ , who ignored _his_ owl in favour of devouring _his_ food as swiftly as humanly possible. No matter how disgusting that act was to those around _him._

Hedwig landed gracefully on Hermione's left shoulder bearing only a single letter; one addressed to her and her counterpart once more. Hermione dared a glance at _Molly_ , who was looking at Hedwig with a frown.

"Come on Hedwig, we can read Harry's letter in our room. I think I've even got some owl treats somewhere."

She hadn't spoken very quietly so _Molly_ 's huff was entirely expected. The glare from _Him_ was a bit more surprising, but then _he_ never did like when Harry paid attention to anyone other than himself. Hermione and her younger self didn't take long to leave the room, both ignoring _Molly_ 's reminder to write the reply where she could see it.

–oOoOo–

Having a midday drink with Tonks wasn’t what Sirius had planned after his lunch, but the Hermione twins hadn’t been in the mood for him pestering them for stories since the Weasleys had arrived. He had though they were on good terms, but after Ronald’s impressive display upon his arrival…

He couldn’t really blame them for ignoring him. It did, however, leave the house even more dreary than ever. Molly had spent hours trying to get him to force them in with Ginevra, to _settle them down_ so they could just get over their grief.

It was enough to drive a man to drink, but at least he had a drinking buddy for once.

"I just... I messed up. I wanted to make friends with him. He's my only cousin other than you who doesn't _suck._ " Tonks was nursing a glass of Firewhisky as she talked–her third of the evening. "I didn't know who it was, should've been given pictures of his friends so I knew who was cool and who wasn't. Not that the sudden twin thing wouldn't have forced me to do _something_..."

Sirius chuckled, "But at least you wouldn't have tried to rip a crying girl away from him just after she lost her parents?"

"Yeah, that."

"They'll forgive you eventually. You just need a chance to talk to them."

"I tried! She looked like she was gonna murder me. Didn't find me funny neither."

"Well,” Sirius tip a sip of his own drink. “I know how to get them to forgive you. I've got something that needs to be given to Harry..." Sirius trailed off, _something_ had just passed through the wards. No, _someone_ had passed through the wards. Someone _apparated_ past them _._ Since he hadn't given anyone permission to apparate across the ward boundary yet it was a little alarming.

He would've jumped up and checked immediately if it hadn't been someone apparating _out_ of the house. Whoever it was had already been inside, so they were meant to be here. _If that was one of the girls..._ He shook his head and downed his drink. _Deal with that later, get the mirror to Harry first._

"Sirius, Dumbledore's already pissed Harry knows what he does. I'm not sure I should..."

"What does it matter? Harry already knows you're watching him, so it’s not like you showing up is revealing a secret. I'm not asking you to do much, just give him an early birthday present. It's secure, safe, and it'll keep him out of trouble."

Tonks sighed, shaking her head. "... Alright, I'll bite. What is it?"

"A mirror. It's linked to another one I've got. It'll let him talk safely without needing to use letters. Something he _needs,_ Tonks, he watched a schoolmate die and he's stuck stewing in his room. Hell, he's probably killing himself over what happened to the Grangers, blaming himself for it because they were his friends."

"Agh! You're right! We're not supposed to leave Auror's that lost their partners alone, let alone a traumatised kid! The bloody hell's Dumbledore thinking?" She downed her drink and belched the resultant flame loudly. "I'll take it to him. My next shift's on the fourteenth, so I'll hand it over as soon as I'm alone on watch. Probably best not to blab about it; I'm not sure the Headmaster would agree with us."

"Probably not," Sirius refilled Tonks' drink and poured himself a new one. "But if he won't look after Harry after the crap he's gone through, someone else has to do it."

Tonks cradled her drink to her chest and grinned at Sirius. "He's family. We’ve not got much of that, not ones who're worth calling family anyway."

Sirius grinned back. "Glad to be included, Nymmie." 

Tonks pouted and stuck her tongue out at him. "Sod off, Mutt."

–oOoOo–

Hermione disappeared from the bedroom she shared with her counterpart with a soft, almost silent, _Crack._ She wasn't going far. Just a little outside the house into the park square opposite 12 Grimmauld Place. Her other self had gone to give _Molly_ their letter, but Hermione needed to test a theory.

The idea that Molly was messing with their mail.

If she couldn't apparate–which she obviously wasn't supposed to be able to do and was technically breaking the law by doing–neither of them would be able to get out of the house at all. The front door was keyed to only be opened by specific people, the windows were locked, the back garden was completely sealed off due to dangerous plants and the Floo was either under watch or sealed. They were imprisoned in the house, much like Sirius’ was.

Which meant her only available route of contacting Harry was through letters. Letters which _Molly_ insisted on sending in batches with other people’s mail, so she had ample access to the letters before they were given to Hedwig to take to Harry. More than enough of an opportunity to edit them.

Harry’s reply to their last letter hadn’t made much sense to Hermione or her duplicate. He had asked questions she had answered in her letter, and while it was possible he didn’t believe they were busy cleaning an old house it seemed far more likely someone had altered the letter they had sent.

He’d even complained about them keeping secrets, but they weren’t. At least, not secrets about what he was asking. The accusation had hit a little close to home, and Hermione–her duplicate–had been upset all through writing their reply. 

She waited in the bushes of the park for ten minutes before the owls started leaving. She gave a sharp whistle and called out to Hedwig as loudly as she could without alerting those in the house as to where she was. Hedwig was obviously a little confused at being called, but she was quite used to delivering letters for Hermione, so she flew down and landed on her shoulder. Hedwig nipped Hermione on the ear forcefully, not quite drawing blood, but definitely not the affectionate nips she normally gave..

“Sorry, Hedwig, I know this is strange and I shouldn’t have bothered you when you were in flight.

Hedwig ruffled her feathers and shook the leg her letters were tied to, as if to say it would be _acceptable_ so long as Hermione had something for her to deliver.

“I was just worried _Molly–”_ Hermione spat the word harshly enough her shoulders shook slightly, causing Hedwig to flap her wings to retain balance. “–Sorry. I think Molly might have been tampering with my mail, the letters from me to Harry.”

The moment Hermione mentioned mail tampering Hedwig’s feathers puffed up and she cried out loudly. She shuffled around on Hermione’s shoulder and twisted her head to stare Hermione dead in the eye.

“It’s completely and utterly wrong, I know. I and my other self wrote two letters for Harry. One which we gave to _Molly_ to give to you, and one I’m carrying right now; if I’m right I’ll swap them so Harry knows what’s happening.”

Hedwig’s stare abated and she looked down at three three letters tied to her leg. After a few moments she barked frustratedly, and pushed the letters out to so Hermione could examine them and find the one she and her counterpart had wrote.

She read over the letter and found most, if not all, of the information they had put in had been cut out. A few sections about _Ron_ and the rest of the _Weasleys_ being there had been added, as if to taunt Harry he was alone for the summer. Whoever had changed the letter had made it so it was taunting, hinting, and utterly useless to Harry.

They were trying to make it out like she didn’t want to tell Harry anything. As if she wasn’t being careful about information properly and just refused to tell him anything at all. Even that they were mostly just busy studying and cleaning.

"I think, Hedwig, that I hate that woman."

Hedwig barked softly and twisted her head to catch Hermione’s eye.

"Oh, no, you're right. I don't think, I _know_ I hate her. Despise her. I'm almost tempted to turn her into a mouse and let you play with her, she did tamper with your mail after all." Delving into thoughts of revenge was a calming exercise for Hermione. One she tried not to indulge in too much because she knew if she acted on even one of her ideas, just one of her urges, any chance of staying close to Harry was gone. Both he, and her still unconvinced other half, would hate her for going dark, evil.

She did worry that she might go dark and turn evil at times. It was pretty hard to argue that the elder Hermione _hadn’t_ ; for all that her anger had been justifiable. Even so, the temptation of giving in and taking revenge on those around her, listening to the darker whispers that lurked in her mind, it was hard to resist.

So many of the examples and training memories had paired up with acts of revenge it was hard to separate herself from the woman who killed so easily, who hated herself and the world with every breath, but Hermione wasn’t that woman. She wasn’t proud of what her older self had done, but if things turned out the same as they had she doubted that she wouldn’t do the exact same thing.

Hedwig nipped her ear, pulling Hermione out of her thoughts. “Oh, sorry, Hedwig.” Hermione blinked at Hedwig, feeling strangely chastised by the owl. She rummaged around in her expanded bag and pulled out two letters, tying one to Hedwig’s leg. The other she kept in her hand.

“Hedwig, does anyone try to intercept you while you’re flying?”

Hedwig puffed up her feathers and glared at Hermione again, forcing her to clarify.

“I’m not asking if you _do_ get intercepted. I’m asking if anyone tries. I know you’re good enough to avoid them.”

Hedwig’s feathers settled slightly. She shook her head and gave a short, questioning, bark.

“Alright, this letter is for Vault Keeper Ripstalk of Gringotts Wizarding Bank. If you take it to him he’ll give you a tag, a Gringotts’ mail owl tag. It will let him call you–”

Hedwig buffeted Hermione’s head with a wing.

“–ack, call you for _Harry’s_ Gringotts business. He’s never had a Gringotts letter because he’s under a mail ward and very few owls can reach him.” Hermione rubbed her face where Hedwig had hit her, careful to avoid jostling Hedwig. “There are a lot of letters he has missed because of that, and some important ones will be needing to be sent soon. That’s why I’m offering you this letter of introduction.”

Hedwig shuffled on Hermione’s shoulder, as if she was getting ready to take off and fly away.

“If I leave the letter here in the bushes under a charm you could come back and collect it when you’ve made a decision? You don’t have to do it now.”

Hedwig, just like Hermione had hoped, took that as a challenge. She snatched up the letter in her beak flew south-south-west, directly towards Diagon Alley.

“Safe flight, Hedwig.” Hermione called, before she apparated back into her shared bedroom in Grimmauld Place.

**14th of July, 1995,  Num. 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey**

Harry found himself sitting on the swings in the park on Magnolia Road late at night again, wishing that Hermione was with him. He'd come back to this same spot numerous times since the sixth. Each time remembering how upset they had been, and how it was his fault. Hermione was targeted because she was his friend, because by being his friend attacking her would send a message.

He idly kicked at the gravel by his feet, spraying it into the air and sending him swinging slowly. Harry had kicked the drunk much the same way the evening after Hermione had been taken. Waking him up from his stupor in Aunt Petunia's rose bushes. The rose bushes Harry had needed to carefully bring back into shape before he got blamed for ruining his Aunt's chance at winning a gardening award this year. Wouldn't have been his fault, as if it ever was, but it's not like she cared.

Everything was getting worse. No one believed Voldemort was back, no one believed him about how Cedric had died, and no one was preparing for things like the attack on Hermione. Even the _Order_ , whatever they were, wasn't helping. They were just stealing Hermione's mail and mangling it. That had gotten him mad all over again! He had completely ignored the rest of the letters Hedwig had brought after reading it. He still hadn't touched them, he wanted to hear from Hermione again first. If she was right and Mrs Weasley was the one altering her letters... he didn't know what he'd do.

Molly hadn't liked Hermione since the Rita Skeeter articles. That much had been clear in the howler she had sent after the Yule Ball. He had thought she would have understood that Hermione _hadn't_ done anything and she had just gone to the ball with Krum because he had asked when no one else had. Harry now knew he should have asked her; it would have been far nicer than going with Parvati at least. Not that anything bad had been Parvati's fault since he had been the one distracted by Hermione and Cho.

He had made a lot of mistakes over the last year, and even more in the years before. Now that he knew he'd gotten Hermione's parents killed, her kidnapped, and nearly... nearly... _that_. He shuddered, his blood burning and heart pounding at the thought of something so horrible happening to his best friend.

Harry really just wanted to see her again. To apologise for not doing enough for her, and tell her it was okay if she hated him for putting her in so much danger. He wasn't so stupid as to think she would hate him, or even step away at all, but he had to tell her it would be okay anyway. He wouldn't let her sense of responsibility put her in more danger by staying at his side, not unless she wanted to be there for her own reasons.

He blushed as he thought of the kiss she had given him at King’s Cross and the way they had clung to him after they had escaped the Death Eaters.

Harry's thoughts were cut short by a rustling sound in the gravel, and when he snapped his head around he could see faint footprints left by someone invisible. He clenched his fists and hopped off of the swing, rounding on where he thought the _guard_ must be standing. He discovered he had misjudged by a fair bit when a hissed whisper came from just off to his left.

"Psst! Harry!"

He recognised the voice as being one from when Hermione was taken away from him. Although he couldn't quite remember her name. He turned to face where the voice had come from and glared as best he could at the invisible woman.

"... Not happy with me, okay, I get that. I've got something for you though–from Sirius. It's... it's a way to talk to him. Him and the girls." There were a few moments of rustling before she shrugged off her cloak and stood in front of him, smiling weakly. "Really, it's quite awesome. Neat bit of magic he and his friends made back in school for detentions or somethin'. Don't know how it works myself, though."

Harry just kept glaring at her–he was interested, sure, but he was also _angry_ and she was there. Standing in front of him and pretending she hadn't done anything wrong.

"You're mad at me, aren't you." She deflated, almost literally as her brightly coloured purple hair faded to a dull brown and became limp. "I–I really am sorry, you know. You're my cousin and I'm supposed to keep you safe; a girl I _didn't_ know, two of 'em, run at you out of nowhere and attach themselves? You're not really known for being close to any twin girls." She shook her head. "I messed up, I admit that. I'm trying to make up for it. Dumbledore'll be pissed if he finds out I spoke to you at all, let alone gave you something."

"Okay." Harry crossed his arms in front of him. He stopped glaring quite so hard and looked–Tonks! That was her name–Tonks over and watched as she fumbled around with a bag worn across her shoulder. _Wait a second..._ "Cousin?"

"Yeah, I'm your cousin–second cousin something or other. Your Nan, Dorea Black, was my great granddad's sister. Sirius' too, though he's one generation up from me." Tonks pulled a packaged wrapped in dull brown cloth out of the bag. "Great! Here, you take it–knowing my luck I'll drop it if I try to unwrap it. Not gonna' bugger this up again."

"Sirius is your uncle?" Harry asked as he started carefully unwrapping the package.

"What?” She paused briefly. “No, he's my Mum's cousin. My aunt's are... nowhere near as nice as Sirius, and that's putting it politely." She grinned at him as he finished unwrapping a mirror from the cloth. "Tap your wand on it and say 'Padfoot'. Come on, he's waiting."

Harry looked away from Tonks and down at the mirror. It didn't look terribly magical, just a slightly awkwardly sized hand mirror with a stand on the back. Half expecting a prank of some sort he pulled out his wand and tapped the mirror. "Padfoot."

Within a few moments the mirror stopped reflecting Harry's face and showed a familiar, but far different one. The face of Sirius Black.

"Harry! Great, Tonks got it too you. You're outside, right? I'd love to talk now–got plenty I want to tell you, and the girls too. I mean, they have stuff they want to tell you, but not out in public like that. Call again once you get back to your room, okay?"

Harry was stunned, it had actually worked. He was talking to Sirius directly, without having to wait for letters or worry about them being messed with. "Okay," he mumbled.

"Good. See you soon, Harry." Sirius smiled widely, then vanished from the mirror. Harry was disappointed to see him go, but he also understood. He could talk to his godfather when he got back to his room and he wasn't risking breaking the law.

"Tonks?" He said, still a little dazed.

"Yeah, cous’?"

"Thanks." He paused. "Apology for... taking and upsetting Hermione accepted." He grinned at her. "Can't say they'll forgive you yet, though.”

Her hair sprang up and returned to its earlier shade of purple. "Great! But, could you maybe put a good word in for me with your girlfriend at least? She keeps trying to murder me with her eyes, and honestly, it's a little scary."

Harry blushed and mumbled that Hermione wasn't his girlfriend, before running off back to Num. 4 Privet Drive. He had never been more eager to go back to his little bedroom and lock himself away with his _relatives._


	8. Ch. VIII - Hermione And A Mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This is sort of an interlude of Harry and Hermione talking. It was going to happen, so it happened all at once.
> 
> Many thanks to both Tyrannic_Puppy and Jamethiel for providing comments and beta work on this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: Did Harry never try to repeat his Best Summer Ever where he ran away to the Leaky Cauldron? If not, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.

**14th of July, 1995,  Num. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

Hermione was practising her Occlumency with Mia when there was a knock on the door. Considering it was after dinner, and Ron had decided she was terrible for ignoring him, it only really left Ginny or Sirius as possibilities. Ginny had been surprisingly supportive and considerate even if they couldn’t trust her. She had taken their side against Ron whenever he spouted off about how they should pay attention to him or stop studying to play a game of chess.

Hermione had never liked chess. She had memorised a few strategies to use against Ron in the past, but for all that he was lazy otherwise, he was legitimately good at the game so she always lost.

Mia had already packed away the more unusual of their books as Hermione stood up to see who was knocking on the door. If it was Ginny, she would inevitably get curious about what they were doing, asking questions and later spilling everything she found out to her brothers and mother. She had already done that with the Gringotts letter confirming their ward status under the Potter regent just yesterday.

The letter had come during breakfast with Hedwig, who was wearing her shiny new Gringotts medallion proudly, and they had taken it to their room to read. They hadn't removed Ginny from having permission to enter from when she had wanted to speak to them that morning. It hadn’t mattered too much; the order was far more interested in the identity of the Potter regent. After they had truthfully said the only people they could think of who could take the position were in Grimmauld, the pressure had moved away from them onto other avenues of investigation.

It was a little funny that the order was scrambling to find someone who was living in the same house as them, but accidentally revealing their ward status like that meant they could have let out a far more dangerous secret. It had been a mistake. One Mia was working hard to ensure she didn’t repeat.

Hermione opened the door to a widely grinning Sirius Black, who was bouncing on his heels like an overly excited dog. "Sirius? I thought you were too busy getting Ron's side of the stories tonight."

Sirius stopped bouncing. "I have learned that Ronald isn't terribly good at modesty or consistency. He tried to boast he fought _valiantly_ against me when I broke into Gryffindor tower..." He chuckled. "Needless to say, I was amused but a little sceptical."

"He was boasting about that one for months..." Hermione shook her head. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Yes, I've got a little present for you; mind if I come in and show you how it works?"

"Sure."

Hermione stepped out of the way, and he walked over to sit on the bed, leaving her to close the door. He pulled a hand mirror out of his jacket and held it up to them.

"Now, I've already had my conversation with him for the evening, so I'll be leaving this with you. You know Ron better, so while Harry wants to talk to him, I'm leaving it up to you two if he gets a chance to use it. I know Molly would scream if she found out I'd gotten this to Harry," Sirius frowned and stared at a wall. "Batty woman seems to think it's good for Harry to be isolated, and after you mentioned it, I looked up an old Auror handbook. It's pretty much the worst thing we could be doing to him."

Hermione nodded her agreement along with Mia, but she was less focused on Sirius' words and more on the mirror. Mia had told her exactly what Sirius with a hand-mirror meant, and since he mentioned Harry... she was going to get to talk to him. Face-to-face, or at least face-to-mirror-to-face–which was almost as good.

 "Is that a protean charmed mirror?" Mia asked.

"Protean charm? That's a part of it, sure, but it's a fair bit more complicated than that. The image is the easy bit with the charm, but the sound is hard. Took us months to find a set of listening charms that wouldn't get blocked by the castle's wards." He smiled and ran a hand over the mirror. "Months of work these were, Remus, James, and I all worked hard on getting them just right."

He handed the mirror to Hermione and grinned at her. "Tap it with your wand and say 'Harry Potter' He's waiting to speak to you right now." He stood up and brushed himself off absently.

"You're not staying?" Hermione asked as she looked at him confusedly.

"Already had my conversation, so I'll leave you three to your privacy. You don't need an old man snooping about interrupting your reunion." His grin fell off of his face, and he pursed his lips. "You need a chance to talk properly about what happened. I know I'm not the person for it, and you're on the outs with your other friend, Ron, so I'm hoping this helps."

Mia walked up to him and gave him a hug. "Thank you, Sirius, it will. It really will help."

He ruffled her hair with one hand and smiled again. "Good. I really do owe you, both of you, and that time-turner. I'm not going to forget that... just be careful with the wards. I know you went out because someone had been altering your letters, so I can’t blame you there. Harry was _very_ mad about that.” He bared his teeth. “ _But_ , I do not know how or why you can apparate. That isn’t something you can learn from a book. You did it to help Harry; to be there for him. Promise me _nothing_ you are doing will hurt him, and I’ll leave it be.”

Mia was frozen stiff as she stood wrapped around his waist. 

Hermione looked up at him and saw the determination in his eyes. She swallowed noisily. "Sirius... I, we–"

Mia interrupted Hermione before she could continue. "We'll tell you after we tell Harry, Sirius. He needs to be the first to know, and–and he can't know yet."

Sirius smile faded instantly, turning into a scowl. "And why not?"

Mia stared at the floor as she pulled away from Sirius, whispering only one word in reply. “Occlumency.”

Sirius tensed sharply. After a moment, he relaxed, and his scowl faded although his expression remained grim. "Ah. I'll brush up on it. Do you have the books you need?"

"We do, Sirius." Hermione met his eyes, which were still hard and penetrating. "Harry... he needs to hear it first. "

"Give me the promise, and I can wait. For a while at least."

"Nothing we do is to hurt Harry, maybe–maybe he won't be happy with all of it. With us keeping secrets, he might be angry, but... they won’t hurt him." Mia clenched her hands into fists and shook, still staring down at the floor. "Never. Never to hurt him."

Sirius looked Mia up and down, taking in her every movement and reaction. Once he finished, he smiled softly and reached out to put a hand on Mia's head. "Alright, I trust you, Hermione Jane Granger." He ruffled her hair and chuckled. "Moody can see the wards and how they react to apparition, so be careful. He catches you doing that, and Dumbledore will know about it within an hour."

"I'll leave you two be now. Keep that promise, or there _will_ be trouble." He left the room, and the door sounded with a firm _click_ as it shut.

Mia walked around the bed and collapsed onto it, grabbing a pillow and hugging it tightly. Hermione wanted to do much the same–Sirius knew. _Sirius knew._ He knew about Mia being able to leave the house by apparating, he knew about them being able to control the wards, but what else did he know? Did he suspect Kreacher? What about the Horcrux? Would he fault them for not throwing out all the heirlooms like he had told them? He did _hate_ his family in a way she couldn't entirely comprehend.

What if he had already come to suspect the time-travel; that Mia's story was a giant lie–what if he exposed them unintentionally? He wasn't the most subtle person around. Hermione bit her lip and chewed on it as she thought. _He hasn't exposed us yet. We just have to trust him to trust us._

She walked over and sat next to Mia, who didn't stir from her own frenzied worrying, and put down the mirror on the bed behind her. "Mia? We need to talk to Harry."

Mia pulled her face away from the pillow. "Right. We need, we need to–a plan. How should we–"

"No!" Hermione snapped, "No planning, it's Harry. I– it's bad enough we're keeping secrets from him, I won't try to colour our conversations with him. I–"

"Okay." Mia sat up and grabbed Hermione's hand. "Okay. We'll just... not tell him the secrets. That's all. It will have to be enough."

Hermione nodded and picked up the mirror. She and Mia then shuffled about on the bed, sitting as close as they could so Harry would be able to see them both clearly through it once they called him. They had been sleeping in the same bed for nearly a week at this point, but outside of hugging Mia when she was having a panic attack, this was as close as they had been together.

It was strange; they were almost cuddling, and Hermione knew that _should_ feel at least a little awkward, but it didn't. It didn't feel intimate at all, even with how they had to have their arms around each other to make it comfortable.

Hermione propped the mirror up on their knees and tapped her wand to it. "Harry Potter," she intoned carefully.

It was only a second or two before a smiling Harry appeared in the mirror, his messy black hair the same as it ever was, and his green eyes glancing between them as quickly as they could. He was covered in some sort of blanket with a light shining on his face–it must have been to dampen the sound of their conversation so he didn’t alert the Dursleys to what was happening.

"Hermione!" Harry didn't shout. His voice was more of a whisper than anything, but the excitement in it was palpable. He didn't get a chance to talk as Hermione found herself unable to contain her own excitement.

"Harry!" She and Mia both exclaimed, but Mia didn't continue. "Oh, it's so good to see you! Well, talk to you and see your face, anyway. Are you okay? Are the Dursleys treating you right? I–we didn't get a chance to ask before..." She shook her head, pushing away the thoughts of the order pulling her away from Harry. "I really, really want you to be okay, Harry. You must be feeling terrible, Cedric and now this, all without you having anyone to talk to. It's not fair at all that they tried to make you deal with it alone." 

Harry, at first, had a grin on his face and looked ready to laugh. Now, however, his grin had fallen away, and he was frowning. 

"If I hadn't... If, if... Harry. Um." Hermione paused.

_How do I tell Harry that we're calling Mia Mia without explaining the future?_ Hermione frowned and turned to Mia, who rolled her eyes.

"Harry, what Hermione," Mia squeezed Hermione with the arm Mia had wrapped around her shoulders. "Is trying to say is that we, between the two of us, decided that we can't go around both calling each other Hermione. I've ended up with the name..." Mia hesitated, scowling briefly before she said it. "Mia."

"Oh." Harry's reply was succinct, and his eyes and mouth were wide open. "Um. Do... do you want me to call you that? I would have thought Jane–" Harry flinched. "No, no. Stupid. I'm sorry, Hermione. I shouldn't have..." He looked away from the mirror, his lips held tight together. "Sorry."

"Harry... it's okay, really. We... she's gone, but you remembered." Hermione felt tears in her eyes–not because she was sad, but because she was _happy_. Harry had remembered her mother's name, her middle name. She wanted to let him in on the fact they were happy tears, but it was better if she didn't. Better for the _lie_.

She hated having to lie to Harry.

"Are you two really okay?"

"Yes, we are." Hermione answered through her tears, "Ron has been... insensitive, again. I'm not speaking to him. But I have Mia, and Sirius is talking to us both about you as a baby and getting us to tell him about our time with you at Hogwarts." Hermione bit her tongue, realising that they had never asked Harry if it was okay to share those stories with Sirius. "Oh, Harry. I'm sorry, I know you don't like people talking about you, but I thought that with Sirius it would be okay if–"

"Hermione! It's fine, Sirius already told me about that." The corners of his mouth were twitching upward, threatening to form a smile. "I don't mind you telling Sirius those stories; he still wants to hear them from me. I like that you're getting along... I just wish I could be there too."

"I wish you were here too, Harry." Mia said wistfully.

"You'll be here eventually. They can't keep you locked up there forever!"

He smiled properly again, and Hermione smiled in response. _He's okay. His talk with Sirius must have helped a lot. I expected him to be so desperate for information that he might shout at us, even with the letters being messed with._

"Yeah. Sirius said it probably won't be before my birthday with the way Dumbledore has been talking to him. Leaving me stuck here for _yet another_ birthday. One year I'd like to have a good birthday, I really would."

"You will, Harry. I promise you that you'll get to have a birthday party one day."

"Hermione... I, thank you, but, with what happened you don't have to... I mean, you nearly–" He choked up, unable to force out the words. "You were... kidnapped. Being friends with me–"

Mia grabbed the mirror and pulled it right up to her face. "Harry James Potter! You do not get to say that! Not now, not ever! I'm your friend, we both are! You don't–not now, not when they're... they're gone Harry. I, we need you." Mia sobbed, the hand clutching the mirror shaking.

Hermione turned and pulled herself around Mia, giving the girl as strong a hug as she could from her position as she clenched her own eyes shut, willing Harry to not try to distance himself from them.

"You're the closest person we have left, Harry. Without Mum and Dad... we don't have aunts or uncles, no friends outside Hogwarts. It's just you and Hermione, so don't. Don't ever say want us to go away. I couldn't bear it." Mia placed the mirror back so that it was leaning on her knee, and brought her hand up to her face to wipe away her tears.

Harry had his eyes shut and was looking down, not properly facing his mirror. "Sorry, Hermione. Sorry to both of you–I knew you wouldn't... want to go. But I... I don't want you hurt. I'm sorry, I didn't think properly."

"No, Harry, you didn't. I've never abandoned you before, and we never will. Not now, not ever." Hermione stated firmly. "Now, Harry, I asked you how _you_ were doing, didn't I? And how the Dursleys were treating you, and I was trying to say that we were doing well... because we have each other. We're never alone. It's not pleasant here, G–" She choked suddenly, gagging on the words. It felt like she was trying to cough up her own lungs as she sputtered.

"Hermione?!"

"Oh, Hermione... that's the charm, and why we can't tell you where we are, Harry. Please don't ask."

"Is she going to be okay?"

"Should be." Mia wriggled around and started patting Hermione on the back awkwardly.

The feeling of choking on her own lungs faded slowly, and Hermione blinked away tears so she could see again. Both Mia and Harry–who was on his side as the mirror had tumbled over when Mia changed position–had expressions of concern on their faces. Hermione coughed once last time. "So that's what the–" Mia  shoved a hand over Hermione's mouth.

"Mentioning the thing that protects the location also causes it to react. Not too good at vagueness though, so I can say it was the same thing that failed to protect your parents house, Harry."

"Right." Harry blinked. "Could you pick the mirror up? I, um, I can only see your skirt properly from here..."

Mia blushed furiously.

"Wait! No, I mean the outside, I can't–I didn't!"

Mia was still blushing as she picked up the mirror and propped it up on her knees. She turned away, avoiding looking at the mirror.

"We know, Harry. It wouldn't have been your fault even if..." Hermione felt the heat rushing up her own face which was almost certainly mirroring Mia's. "Well, um. It's fine anyway.”

They sat in awkward silence for several minutes. Hermione couldn’t tear herself away from what had almost happened. If it had happened, it would have been incredibly embarrassing! She liked Harry, certainly, but she didn’t even know he liked her yet, and she _did_ know that it was far too soon for anything like… that. The closest thing to a kiss they had shared was the one on the cheek she gave him at King’s Cross.

She wasn’t mad at him. The mirror falling over wasn’t his fault, and he hadn’t seen anything anyway. It just was just so very awkward. At least he had gotten embarrassed; that he had showed that maybe, just maybe, he was thinking of her as a girl. She hoped it meant that, anyway.

The time-turner he had given her in the future showed he cared about her, but that didn’t mean he liked her as a girl. It could just have been a gift for a close friend, someone he felt platonically towards.

There were more important things than her love-life anyway. Keeping him safe and happy as his friend would be good enough for a bushy-haired bookworm like her.

Eventually, Harry broke the silence. "Um. The Dursleys... they are mostly leaving me alone. I have a list of chores to do, but it isn't too long, and I can leave the house whenever I want. I've been doing that a lot, visiting the park where... where you ran into me. I met Tonks there too, she was the one who gave me the mirror–"

Hermione frowned. She didn't like Tonks. She had tried to take Mia hostage when Mia had gotten distracted. Just the fact that she had been a part of Harry's _guard_ annoyed Hermione, but if she had actually helped Hermione might have to change her opinion on the pink-haired Auror.

"–I know she was part of the group that took you away, but she's apparently my cousin. Sirius said she's my second-cousin-once-removed? I don't know what that means exactly, but my grandmother's Tonk's great-granddad's sister, and she's Sirius' grandaunt too! I never knew that I actually had family! I have cousins who aren’t Dudley! No aunts or uncles, or grandparents, they all died. But I have cousins…” He scowled and retched. "One of which is _Malfoy,_ so it's not all good."

"That's great!" Mia said, "I... I remember reading a bit about your grandparents, and how Dorea Potter's marriage to Charlus was a scandal, but I don't... I didn't, I didn't realise Dorea Potter had been Dorea Black..."

Hermione looked at Mia with a frown. Mia should have known that. They had found Regulus Arcturus Black on the tapestry in the future, which was how they learned where the Locket Horcrux was from Kreacher, hadn't they? Which meant the older Hermione in the future must have gone over the tapestry as a whole, there was no way she wouldn't have. Especially since Mia had said she had been living in the house.

It didn't add up. Either Mia had kept this from her for some reason, or their future self hadn't felt it important enough to tell Mia about it–or, even worse, had intentionally not told her about it for some secret reason. Something that was entirely possible and also deeply alarming.

Mia seemed to recognise that she as she met Hermione's eyes, a flicker of doubt crossing her features.

Hermione turned back to the mirror and Harry. "We'll have to look up more on the Blacks then, see who else you are related to. It's obviously a pretty famous house, and old. It should be interesting to research!"

Harry grimaced as she mentioned research. "Hermione, I'm happy to have family now, but that doesn't mean I want to look in a library for them!"

Hermione laughed. She would look up his family, whether he joined her or not. He probably would, since she was quite sure he was putting on a show of resistance and was quite eager himself. Once she stopped laughing, she saw he was grinning; he would join her in her research, she knew it.

"Thank you, Hermione. I wish that… that I..." He trailed off and shook his head. "No, doesn't matter. Has anything changed since your last letter? It almost doesn't seem worth it to read any of the others since they all could have been messed with."

"Well, not really? We're still ignoring Ron for what he said, and he's only gotten worse. He even tried to say we were better off now we never had to go back to the _muggle_ world! Of course I want to go back! I want to go to university, get a degree, live up to my parents expectations... learn and keep learning. Magic is amazing, but there's so much more out there." Mia giggled softly at Hermione's side as Hermione went on with her rant. "I know it will be hard, but I can take correspondence courses for my GCSE's, A-Levels and the rest. I can manage a lot of that over the summer, and it will give me something to do now that..." _Now that I don't want to stay in the wizarding world._ Hermione managed to stop herself in time. She hoped Harry didn't interpret it as _‘now that my parents are dead’_ and blame himself.

It wasn't his fault. Tom Riddle would have come after her eventually anyway. Being his friend was worth the risk, the danger. She had made that decision after first year–she would stand by him, and whatever happened to her was never going to be his fault.

"If anyone can do it, Hermione, it's you. Only you would plan on studying magic _and_ properly doing... Muggle Studies," He chuckled to himself, and both Hermione and Mia joined in. "The proper way. Hogwarts really should have something for that, it would be a lot better than the muggle studies course they currently have, from what I remember of your description of it."

"It would be infinitely better." Mia said once she finished laughing. "At least they would learn something useful, and that muggles can't be stupid with all that they need to learn to complete their education. It would help with Arithmancy too. Far too much time is spent on bringing some of the purebloods up to standard on the mathematics. It slows the course down. If it wasn't for that, I believe Arithmancy would the harder course between it and Ancient Runes."

Harry blinked at them, looking somewhat stunned. "Ah, well I can't comment on that... I should have taken at least one of those. Be much more useful than divination against Voldemort, that's for sure."

"Not that much. Arithmancy is mostly theory; a little bit of how to make spells more powerful by using them in sequence, or why one spell works better under certain conditions, but nothing useful for defence." Mia frowned. "Ancient Runes _would_ be useful, but not in the way you're thinking. It's much easier to use a rune than to make one. If there was something that could help against Voldemort, one of us could make it and tell you how to use it–you wouldn't need to have taken the class to do that. Taking the class would have meant you could make your own without relying on us, but neither of us mind you doing that, so it doesn’t matter."

"I shouldn't take advantage of you like that."

"Harry! You have a mass-murderer out to kill you! I'm your friend! You aren't taking advantage of me, I'm offering to help, I'm going to help, and you can't stop me from doing it." Mia huffed, then she smirked mischievously. She turned to Hermione, "We haven't done our homework yet, have we Hermione?"

"No, we haven't..." Hermione smiled as it came to her what Mia was planning.

"Harry, what would you say to getting our homework out of the way now, over the mirror?" Mia was smiling innocently at Harry, whose eyes had gone wide like those of a rabbit pinned under the gaze of hawk. "You wouldn't want to leave it until you came here, would you... if you did you wouldn't have as much time to spend with us, or play games, or practice defence with us in the duelling room."

"Um... I–"

"Please, Harry?" Hermione pleaded, as she tried desperately not to laugh at his terrified expression.

"Okay. Later, maybe?" He deflected, "I still want to talk, and you mentioned a duelling room..."

"Oh!" Hermione grinned brightly. "Yes, this place is big, magically big. There's a whole layer under the house for dangerous magic, and we cleared out a room. You can't tell anyone, obviously, but the wards here mean we can use magic without being detected, so we've been practicing defence in one of the duelling chambers. I, we, don't want to end up in the same situation ever again."

"We also found a few other places in the house that are interesting too. There's a whole library, although we can't go in there because it's too dangerous." Hermione pouted as she remembered that she was still barred from the library. Mia could get in and collect books, or she could ask Kreacher for them, but she still wanted to see it for herself! "Then there was a ritual room we discovered. It was one of the few rooms that was clean without us having to do anything. There are more magical trinkets and heirlooms here than you can count, and Professor Lupin's lessons have never been more useful; the amount of Doxies and other magical pests in this house is ridiculous."

"We... also got a set of books from before we got locked out of the library completely," Mia said carefully, dragging Hermione out of her rant. "I think they might help with your dreams if you're still getting them?"

"My, ah... but I–"

"You mentioned them in the first letter of the year. You complained that Dumbledore was ignoring you and not paying attention to what you knew about Voldemort because of a dream you had." Mia leaned her head against Hermione's, and Harry blushed, although Hermione wasn't sure why he was doing that for once. Normally the reason was quite obvious.

 "Oh. I didn't..." He sighed. "I can't get you to leave that alone, can I?"

Hermione felt Mia nudge her lightly and caught her gaze. It only took a moment to guess her plan and give her a subtle nod. Momentarily they both sing-songed in sync. "No-pe!"

Harry's eyes went wide in shock. "Oh, oh no. Please don't do that. I knew that I would never get away with anything now that I have two Hermione Grangers as my friends, but please, please, don't turn into the twins."

Hermione couldn't help herself; she burst out laughing. Mia managed to be more restrained and reassured him instead.

"No, Harry. We won't turn into the twins. It's fun to do every once in a while, but we don't want to end up like them either. And don't think you're distracting me! Your visions, they're some sort of..." Mia paused, biting her lip briefly. "Mental thing. We found books on mind reading and how to protect against it, which we've been studying. There's a lot of exercises involved, and I want to get you started on some of them so we can try and make it work properly once we are with each other again."

"Mind reading." Harry scowled, his eyes glinting with anger and his voice a harsh snarl. "I always thought Snape knew things he shouldn't. Is that how? He can read our minds?"

"Professor Snape, Harry."

Mia gave Hermione a look, which caused her to blush as she realised who she was defending. It was a little awkward. She still had all her automatic responses–she might not _like_ someone, but she still though you should address people properly. Except Dumbledore, he could... he could, go burn his beard and make love to a goat for all she cared.

" _Snape_ ," Mia said flatly, "does indeed practice Legilimency–mind reading. It's that itch behind your eyes whenever he meets your gaze; both he and Dumbledore do it. They have to look you in the eye to manage it, and without a wand, it's always weak, but they do it. I felt Dumbledore try it when we met him last week."

"You're not calling him Headmaster, Hermione?" Harry said, somewhat awed.

Mia huffed and wrinkled her nose. "I'm not going to be respectful to someone that tries to read my mind!"

He just grinned in response, mirth dancing in his eyes. "Alright. We can do this anti-legilmency thing too, it sounds like a good idea. I don't want the greasy git in my head either, and if it helps with Voldemort that's great too!"

"Legil _i_ mency, Harry, and the defence against it is Occlumency."

"Okay. One last thing, Can you tell me why you aren't forgiving Ron? He's been a prat before, and you've always forgiven him before now..."

Mia stiffened at Hermione's side, tensing and clenching her jaw. Hermione felt Mia’s arm squeeze her ribs painfully. Harry had asked a bad question. One neither of them really wanted to answer–Harry had always chosen Ron before. It was entirely possible he would do the same again now, and It would ruin everything if he did.

" _Ron_... _he_ –my parents–I–" Mia cut off, took a deep breath, and started again. " _Ronald_ , when he arrived, immediately decided to give us nicknames. He picked–"

" _Miney_ and _Herms."_ Hermione spat.

"Yes, _those._ Then, when we said our name was Hermione Jane Granger he said he thought our middle name was Jean..."

"Meaning he forgot your Mum's name." Harry was frowning. "I, I get it. You _should_ be angry with him–I would! I would be angry with him if he forgot my Dad's name and called me Jareth or something! But, are you going to forgive him? I don't... I don't want you guys to be fighting."

Hermione shook her head lightly, restrained by Mia's head resting on hers."Maybe. If he apologises–but he never has, you know that, right? He's never apologised. Not for the Troll, not for Scabbers or... or the Yule Ball and Krum, or anything. He just _doesn't_ apologise."

"He almost apologised to me..."

"Yes, almost, but you didn’t let him! I was annoyed when you let him off like that! He's never going to learn he needs to own up to his actions if you let him off for everything. I know he was your first friend, Harry, but he needs to understand his actions have consequences."

"Maybe I could talk to him, get him apologise?" Harry was fidgeting, his head moving oddly. It was hard to read his body language when all Hermione could see was his head.

"Maybe. Something for another time. I don't want to think about him right now. What homework would you like to do first, Charms, Transfiguration, or Potions?"

He let out a long, mournful, groan. "Alright, Charms I guess. I'll move over to the desk..."

The mirror jerked wildly as Harry stood up from under his blankets and moved it over to the desk. Rather than watch the mirror as he moved it, Hermione disentangled herself from Mia and moved to their own desk. It wasn't long before the three of them were working over the Charms essay Professor Flitwick had set them, helping each other by answering questions and proofreading the essays.

It was a little awkward to help Harry through the mirror, but when they finished and went to bed, Hermione was the happiest she had felt in weeks. She was tired and drained, tapped out from talking to Harry for so long, but just getting to talk to him had felt wonderful.

As Hermione and Mia started drifting off into sleep, Hermione failed to notice that she shuffled closer to Mia, curled into Mia’s side, and tightly hugged one of Mia’s arms to her chest.

 


	9. Ch. IX - Hermione And The Trouble With Regents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theoretically, having finished PoE II: Deadfire for the first time over the last… week, I’ll have more time to write. Maybe I’ll regain more than a couple of days buffer.
> 
> Many thanks to Tyrannic_Puppy for providing comments and beta work on this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: Does anyone question whether Harry has a life-debt on the two people whose his direct action, at the risk of his own life, were saved from certain death? If not, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.

**15th of July, 1995, No. 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey**

Harry had slept better than he had in weeks. He’d spent hours talking with Sirius and Hermione–both of them–and finally knew what was happening in the outside world. At least, the part of the world his godfather and friend were stuck in; somewhere under a charm that made them choke if they tried to tell anyone their location.

Not that he didn’t have more questions. Like how both Hermiones seemed to not realise just how much they were cuddling up. Or if they did know, why they didn’t care that they were doing it in front of him. It had certainly made his dreams more interesting.

Harry shook his head, banishing those particular thoughts. Hermione was doing well, she was enthusiastic and surprisingly happy. She wasn’t suffering. Even if Ron had made a mess of his friendship with her–them again. He didn’t want to do the same as Ron and upset her. He hadn’t yet–probably. They hadn’t seemed mad at him over anything anyway.

As Hedwig flew in through the window Harry got up and went to her cage. She settled in, adjusting the medallion she had arrived wearing a few days before with care. Once she was done, Harry started stroking her feathers and receiving affectionate little nips in turn. “What was Ron thinking, Hedwig? He has to know Hermione hates nicknames. It’s not a new thing.” 

Hedwig shuffled her wings and barked softly.

“Just Ron being Ron? I guess so,” Harry sighed deeply. “But I don’t like them fighting. I messed up and nearly lost Hermione over the firebolt, and then almost lost Ron because of the tournament. What if they get so angry with each other they make me choose?” He was truly hoping they didn’t, and he should have too. Ron had said something bad, but they were friends and friends forgive each other, didn’t they?

Hedwig grabbed the medallion with her beak and pressed it into his hand. 

“I know you’re proud of your new medallion Hedwig–even if I don’t know where you–”

She took off, flying out of her cage and past his shoulder to land on his desk. She carefully sorts through his letters until she finds two in particular, and starts tapping them with her claws. She barked peevishly, dragging a talon across one of them. One he hadn’t opened because he had started ignoring them after Hermione told him about someone messing with his letters. The other was his letter from Hermione, the one in which she had informed him about his letters being messed with. 

“Hedwig? Do you want to…”

Hedwig grabbed Hermione’s letter in her beak, then flapped her wings without taking flight and nudged the other letter with Hermione’s letter.

“I… what?” Whatever Hedwig was trying to tell him, it wasn’t exactly obvious. She rarely tried to get him to understand her explicitly. “You’re not telling me to choose Hermione, if you had you’d have given me hers and done something to Ron’s.”

Hedwig dropped the letter and barked softly.

“So… wait. Did Hermione give you another letter, which she sent to the person who sent this?” Harry tapped the unopened letter.

Hedwig rubbed her beak on his hand, and with another soft, approving, bark she flew back to her cage. She took a sip of water and settled in, her eyes closed. He wouldn’t be getting more out of her now, Hedwig was always peevish if he disturbed her after she decided to go to sleep.

Examining the letter more closely Harry found it had the same emblem as on Hedwig’s medallion. Curious, he ripped open the letter. Hedwig had acted smug when he had tried to ask where she had gotten it from before, so any clue to its origin would be brilliant.

It took him nearly half an hour to finish reading it. The letter was from Gringotts and filled with account statements dating back to 1982, all prefaced with a notice of the circumstances pertaining to their late deliver: a mail ward preventing access to certified Gringotts owls.

That had him staring at Hedwig’s medallion again, it certainly explained why she had it now. She was his owl, but now she was certified as a Gringotts owl and could bring him mail from the bank. If he had understood Hedwig right, Hermione had been the one to figure it out and send her there; why she hadn’t told him though… he didn’t like that she was keeping secrets.

The best and worst part of the letter wasn’t discovering Hermione was doing things in secret. No, it was learning that after _thirteen years_ some unknown relative had finally claimed guardianship over him. Taken him as their ward in the magical world. The notice barely told him anything. Not their name, who they were, what they did, and not even if they were a man or woman!

The idea that he had family was something he was still reeling from. His relation to Tonks and Sirius, and even the Weasleys as distant as it was, had been joyous–but this was closer to home. Someone with _Potter_ blood. Someone who could claim to have the same name as him.

And they had only just decided he was worth paying attention to. 

Harry was more angry than happy–not that he wasn’t a little gleeful, but he was mostly angry and frustrated. If this person had shown up all those years ago, he wouldn’t have had to live with the Dursleys, wouldn’t have stayed trapped for years, and would have known about magic since he was a child.

Harry propped up his head with one hand and ran the other through his hair, all the while glaring at the letter. He didn’t know what to do. He had more money than he needed, he had two houses of his own, he had more relatives, and he had a stranger trying to take control of his life.

Pushing everything aside he ripped open Ron’s letter to distract himself. The much simpler and more pleasant subject of quidditch far preferable to trying to understand his life. He’d figure out the stuff Gringotts had sent him later. Maybe ask for more information from the bank.

Eventually he would have to talk to Sirius for advice, ask Hermione why she sent Hedwig to Gringotts, and if she knew anything about the Potter Regent or his wealth. He hoped she had sent Hedwig there because she had read something and not because she wanted something; if Hermione was trying to control him he didn’t know what he’d do.

**13th of March, 2007, St Jerome's Graveyard, Godric's Hollow**

"You can't dissuade me Harry, no matter how hard you try." Hermione's voice is quiet and tired, but she remains resolute.

"No, there has to be a better way, Hermione. This plan is insane; you don't even know if you'll survive the first ritual, let alone both!" The spectre of Harry James Potter yells at her, his voice fading into the distance amongst the headstones of the graveyard. "I didn't die protecting you just for you to _give up!"_

Hermione leans back on the stone under which her best friend is buried. "You shouldn't have died at all, I wasn't worth it."

"Of course you were worth it, how many times did you save me, Hermione?! Me and Ron, we owed you everything. You were the one who kept us going, made the plans. Voldemort would have won without you..." his spectre flickers as it tries to grasp her shoulder, and sharp cold causing them both to gasp and flinch away. "Stop it, Hermione. You deserve to live, don't do this. What would your parents think? Their daughter planning to kill herself in a vain hope of changing the past and destroying everything that happened in the last thirteen years?!"

"They don't think at all, Harry. They're dead. I can't even speak to them since the stone doesn't work on those who never had magic." Hermione smiles wanly up at Harry. Her eyes are red-ringed but no tears fall from them.

"But you sent them to Australia... how did they die?"

"They've been dead since that summer at Grimmauld, the one..." she rasps out a shuddering breath. "It all went wrong, even before that."

"No, no. You would've said... I would have..."

"We've had this conversation before, Harry. By the time I saw you I barely remembered their names, I didn't even remember my Mum's name right." She laughs weakly. "I was just going through a routine, and later just obeying orders. I lied to you. I lied about sending them away, I lied about going skiing, I lied about bringing them home. They weren't my lies, but I said them anyway."

Harry's hands fall to his sides, the spectre stunned by her words.

"You earned two life debts on me, you know? I paid one back over the years, but you never acknowledged them–so Molly, she tricked me letting her usurp them." Fire alights behind Hermione's eyes. "Tricked me into saying I owed _Ronald_ for saving my life, so that she could gift me to him."

"What? But she thought of you like a daughter, why would... No. No, she wouldn't, there's no way–she wasn't–"

"She did. She never really liked me, too smart, too _modern_ , too stubborn, and far too influential on her seventh son." Hermione giggles mirthlessly. "I mean you, obviously. It was Rita's articles that made her hate me. She truly believed I had potioned you and strung you along, manipulating you and Krum for my own gain."

As Harry stands silent watching her. Hermione stares off at the sun that was slowly rising from the horizon.

"Dumbledore told me he just wanted me distracted from my grief. To be given potions that would stop me seeming distraught so I wouldn't distract you." She shrugs, displaying her disbelief of the headmaster. "Whether he ordered only that or not, he didn't care that _Molly_ took it further. Made me think no more of you than a brother, and Ron as truly wonderful. Worst of all... it was parts of my own legacy she used. Potions to dampen my mind and make me easier to control."

Hermione twists and presses her cheek to the cold stone of Harry's grave, lightly tracing his epitaph. "No, that wasn't the worst. By the end of fifth year I wasn't more than a pet for whatever _Ronald_ wanted of me, the ritual saw to that. I was a clever and wilful pet for a while, but it didn't last." She laughs again, empty and soullessly, she laughs. "The potions degrade intelligence badly as they are consumed. My grades slipped, I lost first place in our year, and since I couldn't understand what was happening I took it out on you."

"Hermione..."

"I hate myself for that more than you can ever know. By the end of the year I was no better of a student than _Ronald_ himself." The bitterness with which she says his name is clear, but there is a twisted undercurrent of both hatred and longing.

"You helped on the Hunt though, you found out–"

"Nothing! We could have used the locket–or even your scar–to track down each Horcrux in turn. We had everything on hand at Grimmauld to destroy the Horcruxes with a ritual, bloody though it may have been. I could have suppressed it with runes so it didn't touch our minds, helped you protect yourself from Riddle's visions, but no. I did none of that. I sat and read a single book time and time again, thinking only of when _Ronald_ would next call for me."

"You stayed."

"Yes, I did! He had given me an order, one absolute command: 'do everything you can to win the war, Hermione'. Dying to help you win would have been _wonderful_. I almost thought I had when Bellatrix caught us, but I lived. I couldn't have given you up if I had wanted to. Anything that would hurt our chances to win wasn't even conceivable. He was angry when he left and wasn't thinking, one order and I would have gone with him, but he never gave it."

"But you, we..."

"The bonds and orders weaken with time and distance, Harry. He was gone for months and I was almost myself again. That there were no potions helped immensely, maybe given a few more weeks I would have come to understand and tell you the truth." She shrugs once more, not believing her own words. "It doesn't matter. You always forgave him. I'm not sure you wouldn't have taken his side even then."

"Why then, why would you do this... plan to save me if you–if you think I would condemn you like that?"

"Love doesn't make sense, Harry. I always loved your kindness, your trust. That you would forgive anything like Dumbledore wanted, it is a part of the Harry Potter I fell in love with all those years ago."

Harry's spectre crumples to its knees, phantasmal legs phasing through the grass and flowers that cover his grave. "I... I don't deserve you. Stop, Hermione. You're free now, live and find something–someone to live for."

"It will never stop hurting, Harry. It won't ever stop."

She twists the stone hanging around her neck, and the pained and sorrowful spectre of Harry James Potter vanishes once more. She stands up, glaring down at the hallow that causes her such heartache with each use. In a few moments she disapparates, leaving to continue with her plan.

Her plan that will either fix everything, or kill her. At this point, she truly doesn't care which.

Left behind is Harry's headstone. Of which every crack and facet, each and every inch, is carved into her memory.

_Here Lies_

_Harry James Potter_

_July 31 1980 - March 13 2004_

_The Hero Of Our World_

_And Ever Loyal Friend_

**15th of July, 1995,  No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

Hermione shuddered awake, panting and squirming as something held her tightly.

"Shush, Hermione, it's okay. Just a dream. It's just a dream, Hermione."

She knew where she was, she was in Grimmauld place, but someone was with her. She struggled as hard as she could, elbow hitting chin and ribs but still the other person held her tightly. Kreacher should have prevented this. The wards shouldn't have let anyone in. Never again. She wouldn't–wouldn't–

"Hermione! It isn't real! Whatever you saw isn't happening, hasn't happened, won't ever happen! Just a dream." Mia's voice was louder, more desperate than it had been before.

Hermione stopped struggling, but her breathing remained hard. She reached up and clung onto one of the arms wrapped around her tightly and shuffled further into Mia's embrace. She'd had another vision, seen another one of Mia's memories. It had–she had–Harry. Harry's dead–Harry's spectre from the... _The Resurrection Stone_. She knew about the Deathly Hallows, remembered using it to call Harry's spirit back from the grave, and how he never remembered her.

She wasn't crying this time–just breathing hard and clutching tightly to Mia.

"Hermione? Are you okay?"

She nodded, and hesitantly tried to speak. "Ye–es," She swallowed to clear her throat. "Yes, I'm okay now. It was... a graveyard. Harry, and his–his ghost, she was talking to him and–oh Merlin. She nearly got free, but then he came back, and she was telling Harry again... she was so _sad._ "

Mia squeezed Hermione tightly, pulling Hermione's head under her chin. "Because she felt she had failed at everything, and Harry couldn't remember the other times they had talked. Every time he told her to live, to keep going without him..."

"Was like a knife in her heart." Hermione buried herself into Mia's nightshirt. She wasn't crying or sobbing, but the echo of the memory was a bone-deep depression that made everything feel empty and cold. That woman–her older, elder, self had given up completely.

"Exactly."

"Do you think that Harry–that he might choose Ron over us?" It hadn't really been something she had considered. Harry was special, important, so she was helping him. She knew he would be mad for them lying to him, but hadn't stopped to think about whether he would side against them when they revealed what they knew.

"He won't. I know he won't. His will, it spelled things out about how he feels _now_. How he felt might have changed later, but he cares about us. If there wasn't anyone in the way, he would've..." Mia shook her head and began rubbing comforting circles into Hermione's back. "We won't be letting the loyalty potions start up again either, or whatever happened to make him accept the Order's participation in his isolation as calmly as he did. He'll be... angry with me–"

"With us,"

"With _me_ –" Mia said firmly. "–because I'll take all the blame. Say that I've made you do this. You don't want to lie to him, you want him to know, and it's the truth. If it wasn't for me you would never have lied to him about any of this. He'll still be able to trust you and–" She took in a shaky breath. "–and that's what's important. I can manage the danger, the Horcruxes, and fighting back. You just need to keep Harry safe, happy, and help him prepare."

Mia continued in a whisper. "I wish I could, but I don't know of any way to get out of Harry fulfilling the prophecy. He will have to confront Riddle himself, no matter how much I try..."

"You're certain he cares about me–us?" Hermione could barely dream of it being true. If Harry liked her back, if he... it didn't matter. Not until he knew the truth about her and Mia. She couldn't try to be more than friends with him so long as that was looming, and even once it was gone Mia would be there and it wouldn't be fair. "No, never mind. Until he knows..."

"Hermione, just..." Mia sighed and let go of her, backing away on the bed so they could look at each other properly. "Be close to him, see what happens. It all depends on how fast he learns Occlumency, doesn't it? If he doesn't get it before we go to Hogwarts he'll probably sort-of date Cho again."

"Oh..." She couldn't compete with Cho, he had been all over Cho last year. If she ended up interested in him Hermione would have to–

"Before you start worrying, they kissed _once,_ which he described as _wet,_ and went on one date which he left to speak with us." Mia smiled thinly. "Even when he was with her, he still came back to us when we asked."

Hermione took a calming breath and relaxed as best she could. "But weren't we... potioned?"

"Yes, but it wasn't a romantic meeting. It was an interview with Rita Skeeter for Luna's father's magazine, the Quibbler. Harry's truth about the graveyard, Riddle, and everything else we could think of... which wasn't what it should have been thanks to those bloody potions." Mia reached out and took Hermione's hands in her own. "Are you okay now?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Then..." Mia grabbed her wand and cast _Tempus._ "It's still early, we should go back to sleep. Goodnight, Hermione."

"Goodnight, Mia."

**17th of July, 1995,  No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

_Another day, another screaming argument between the Granger girls and Molly._ Sirius sighed, rubbing at his temples as tempers escalated in his house once more. He wasn't sure what this particular argument was about. The last one had started because Molly discovered the girls had been writing their letters to Harry in code, and the one before that was when Ginny had asked who the Potter Regent was, and why they were Hermione's guardian.

 _That_ particular tidbit had confused everyone and sent everyone scurrying to find out what was going on. It certainly explained a few of Dumbledore's actions. Not that Sirius approved of him asking Remus to try and find out anything suspicious about them. Spying on the recently orphaned was uncalled for. He had asked outright and got a clear answer: they didn't know who wasn’t in the house who might have been able to take the position. Which meant himself, Remus, Molly, and Dumbledore were the people they could think of. An understandable, but incorrect, list.

Confusing, but good enough for him. They would keep their promise to him about Harry, and that was all he really cared about. Letting him see the Gringotts letter in full, binding contracts and all, had assured him the regent wasn't... plotting anything. He just didn't like someone taking what should have been _his_ job.

"No! I don't know why you're asking again, Mrs Weasley, but I won't sign it!" Having gotten close enough, Hermione's shouts was finally intelligible rather than just  incoherent screeching.

"You don't know who this _regent_ is! They could be anyone, anyone at all–even a follower of You-Know-Who!"

Molly wasn't quite delivering a howler from up close, but in Sirius' mind that result seemed inevitable. It was the issue of guardianship; Molly wanted Hermione as her ward, but the girls were refusing. Again.

Sirius cast a muffling charm to quieting the Weasley Matron and the Granger Girls down to a tolerable level, and turned to the only other person around who was braving their wroth: Ginevra. "So, did this just start up or has it been happening for a while?"

"Ever since they came down for breakfast. I don't get it, really, Hermione explained why the regent was safe to me and what she said made sense. Mum just isn't listening." The youngest Weasley shook her head. "Or do you think Mum's right? That the regent's suspect?"

"The assignment came through Gringotts, not the ministry. You don’t get to take up such roles at Gringotts without signing binding contracts. Whoever they are, they aren't going to do something _bad_ to her. The worst case I can see is that she might be transferred to Beauxbatons or some other school with full funding from the Potter accounts." Sirius grimaced. "It would keep her, them, safe. What Harry would think is what I'm worried about."

"So you don't care that there's someone running around using Harry's money?"

Sirius huffed. He _did care_ , it was Harry's, not some upstart with a flimsy blood relation to his godson. He wouldn't complain since the contracts and Gringotts would keep the regent from spending it frivolously, and maybe make it grow, but it was taking away Harry's choice on what to do with his inheritance. "I do care, but with the goblin's keeping quiet and no other clues we aren't going to find them."

"–I've thought of you as my own ever since Ron saved you from that troll! I just want to make it official!"

At the sudden increase in volume coming from Mrs Weasley Sirius turned his attention back to the argument. He would likely have to step in and stop things from ending in tears, again. It had been novel the first time, but now it was just annoying. He wasn't a babysitter. Despite the slew of teenagers that had taken up residence in his _house._

"Ron? Ron saved me? Ron came because Harry made him! I had to shout at him to even cast a single spell! The one I _taught_ him and he insulted me for knowing! Harry jumped on the troll's back and distracted it from crushing me; I owe Harry my life twice over."

Sirius dispelled the muffling with a flick of his wand and stepped forward. "Alright, alright, enough. I don't know why my mother isn't awake and screaming but I don't need replacements for her." He glared at all three of them in turn. Both of the Granger girls retreated under his gaze, although only one looked regretful. Molly, however,

"She needs to listen, Sirius! What if this–this _regent_ uses her against us! She knows who several Order members are, where we’re based! She's risking the order and Harry at every opportunity!"

"Molly, the regent is bound by contract– _none_ of that could be forced from her by them. Nor could she be compelled to leave."

"You cannot believe the goblins are trustworthy, Sirius!"

"I know your family doesn't have a good history with Gringotts, Molly, but not everyone is a Prewett. They keep their contracts until someone breaches one with them."

Off to the side the Grangers were whispering to each other again. They spent so much time being secretive that Sirius could understand a fair bit of Molly's frustration with the girls. Something _was_ wrong with their story. As much as it would be nice to think they hand made a daring and lucky escape from the Death Eaters, something didn’t quite fit. Still, they had his trust. They weren't on you-know-who's side, going to hurt Harry, or betray the order. He was certain of that.

"They're master metalsmiths, and they will keep your gold safe, Sirius, but trusting them to prevent the Order’s secrets leaking? That's a step too far!"

"Molly, enough! The regent is bound by contract, Hermione and Hermione are both safe. There is _nothing_ to be concerned about right now. I've read the damn contracts, the worst thing that could happen is they get taken out of the country for their own safety. You will stop this argument before you wake my bloody mother and have her screaming the house down!"

"Um, Sirius?" Ginevra said behind him. "Your mother's painting... it vanished a while ago. Fred and George got curious why she wasn’t yelling and peeked behind the curtains last Friday and she was missing."

Sirius just turned and stared at her, baffled at the fact his mother was _gone_. He had occasionally riled her up intentionally as something to do, but he hated that painting. It was a reminder–a loud one–of the worst parts of his childhood, and it was gone.

"How?" He eventually blurted out.

"Don't know. Fred said nothing was odd about where it had been, other than the wall being cleaner than he remembered."

Hearing an 'eep' from the Grangers had Sirius turning his attention to them. Molly seemed to be as surprised as he was about the missing painting, although she was looking accusingly at the girls now.

"Do you know what happened to my mother's painting, Hermione?"

"Well, we were talking to Kreacher–about S.P.E.W and everything–and told him how Tonks was getting ready to try and burn the painting off of the wall. He didn't seem happy, so I asked why he was leaving it in the hall and not putting it in a sealed off room where it was safe?" She wrung her hands and looked away. "I guess he listened? He's been taking... a few things when we've been cleaning too. Hiding them somewhere."

"And you've been letting him do it." Sirius wasn't happy. Kreacher had been less unpleasant of late, but the menace was still as spiteful as ever. Insulting everyone he could at every opportunity. He knew that the girls had been talking to him, but letting him take possession of dangerous objects? "Hermione... you can't–"

"What were you thinking?!" Molly screeched. Her hands were bunched up in her skirt as she strode forward. "You let the elf take dark magic and tuck it away in a corner to use on us? You foolish girl! Show us where he has them hidden so we can throw them out, at once!"

"Throw them out? No! That's the _foolish_ thing to do!"

"You don't know what you're talking about, listen to your elders!"

"Hermione, why do you think–" Sirius began, but was cut off by Molly again.

"This, this is what happens when children go unsupervised, Sirius!" She turned and yelled at him. "This is why I wanted her with my Ginny, not in a room where she can lock the door and seal herself away!"

"Enough! Stop it Molly! Girls, explain yourselves."

"If we–" "Letting Kreacher–" They both spoke at once, and interrupted each other. After a moment of glances and gestures only one of them tried to speak. "If we throw out the dark objects, where do they end up? I asked _Mr_ Fletcher where they went, and he said he was selling them in Knockturn!"

"Asked is a little inaccurate, Mia..." The other Hermione muttered so quietly Sirius suspected he was the only one to hear. Their emotions were a mess: a lot of nervousness and frustration, but one of them, the one the other had called Mia… it was almost as if she was on the verge of killing someone. They were hiding too bloody much.

The first Hermione glared at her double for a moment, before speaking again. "Most of them, especially the heirlooms Kreacher has been taking have the Black family crest on them. Anyone who bought or found them would know someone was living in a Black family house, and other than Sirius who could it be? There's only Andromeda, Tonks, Narcissa and Bellatrix left. The first two who are on our side, but disowned, and the latter two being on Voldemort's side!"

"We're under Fidelius, Hermione. They wouldn't be able to find us anyway."

"Really? So no one will remember that the Blacks had their ancestral house somewhere near King's Cross and not notice they mysteriously can't remember its exact location? They don't need to know _exactly_ where we are, just close enough to catch anyone who is coming or going!"

“I–maybe we should be more careful, but everything in this house is dark. They need to be handled properly, not given to some elf!"

"Molly, stop." Sirius glared at Molly, daring her to continue.

She simply glared back, crossed her arms and scoffed. She did, however, thankfully remain silent.

Hermione's reasoning was sound; his family was obsessive about marking what they owned. They were destroying some of the darker items, but if Mundungus was selling the bags of junk he collected plenty were going to slip through to the Death Eaters. "Merlin, Dung walked out with a bag I tossed a family blood tracker into..."

"He didn't, because Kreacher, um, rescued it. But that's the point! There are things in this house too dangerous to be let loose, and you're just throwing them out in bags! Kreacher knows how to store and maintain them, and he's doing just that. He doesn’t want them to break anymore than he wants them to be thrown out."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "He let the house get filthy. I find the idea of him properly doing his job somewhat suspect."

"Not everywhere is filthy. I've seen one of his clean rooms, the one... um. Well, it's where your mother's body is, and he preserved it. The body, I mean."

"My mother's corpse is _still_ in the house?"

Hermione grimaced and nodded. "It is, yes."

"And I thought I couldn't hate this place more than I already did." Sirius shook his head and sighed. "Point made, Hermione. Molly, no more throwing anything out. Pack everything up and store it until your eldest can take a look. Who knows, maybe there are even some boons amongst the curses."

"Sirius–"

"No, Molly, not now. I'm going to go burn the curtains my mother was hiding behind and have a party in the hallway. Let me bask in the wonder of my mother not _screaming_ at us for once."

–oOoOo–

After his impromptu party in the front Hall Sirius decided it was time to speak with his elf. Secluding himself in his room he called for Kreacher, and waited for the shrivelled old thing to arrive.

"Master Sirius," Kreacher ground out between clenched teeth. “Filthy no good mutt dirtying house of ancestors…”

Sirius grit his teeth and ignored Kreacher’s insults. "Kreacher. Have you been assisting Hermione Granger in her activities?"

"Kreacher has been upholding his word to the mudblood girls–"

"Don't call them that!"

"Kreacher has been upholding his word to the mudbloods in accordance with the honour of House Black..."

"In accordance with the honour... Kreacher!" He snapped out the elf's name harshly. "How, exactly, did they gain your word and protection under the honour of my house?"

Kreacher hissed, revealing all his teeth as he glared at Sirius and spat his response. "Girls promised to fulfil Good Master's last order, Kreacher could not–Kreacher failed–Kreacher _must_ accept aid and finish Good Master's last order!" Kreacher screamed and started pulling on his ears with one hand, and biting viciously on the other. "Bad master makes Kreacher reveal Secrets, no. Kreacher must not, must not. Protect Good Master's secrets..."

"Stop, Kreacher." Sirius sighed, it was yet another set of secrets hidden from him by the Granger girls. He stared firmly at Kreacher, forcing Kreacher to meet his gaze. "Is anything the girls have asked you to do, or you have seen them do, a danger to either myself or my godson?"

Kreacher ground his teeth noisily before responding. "Kreacher has seen nothing that is a threat to Bad Master or Lady Dorea's Grandson." He quivered, fighting the compulsion to speak. "Mudbloods working to protect Lady Dorea's Grandson and fight the Dark One." He spat as Sirius' order overcame his resistance. 

"You... why are you helping them fight He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Sirius narrowed his eyes and glared at his elf.

"Bad Master! Hate you! Hate you! Kreacher want revenge for Good Master Regulus. Kill Dark One for killing Good Master! Hate You!" Kreacher popped away as he continued screaming that he hated Sirius.

"Regulus?" Sirius murmured, "But..." _he was a Death Eater, and he was killed for... Harry better be quick in learning Occlumency. I have questions for those girls and I'm not sure how long I'm willing to wait._ Sirius sat down at his desk, and pondered the ever stranger web of secrets that surrounded Harry and Harry's friends.

 

**21st of July, 1995, No. 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey**

"It's not funny, Harry."

Harry snickered, and gleefully noted that Hermione–not the one he was laughing at–was covering her mouth to hide her own laughter.

"I'm–I–Sorry Hermione, but it is funny, and adorable. You look..." He broke into another fit of laughter, this time openly joined in by the second Hermione. "You look _cute._ "

The first Hermione flicked her new cat ears in annoyance. "Bloody twins, I'll get them back for this." She growled, baring her teeth–which, unlike in second year, remained completely human. "Stop laughing, Harry, or I'm turning this mirror off."

"Hey! It's my mirror-call too!"

"Shush, Hermione. You're not helping."

"Alright, I'll stop." Harry swallowed deeply, forced his mouth closed and breathed through his nose. After a few moments he felt the urge to laugh subside. "So, how did this happen?"  What he had planned to ask them in this mirror-call had completely left his mind at the sight of Hermione having cat ears stuck on top of her head. That they moved and twitched with her emotions was strange, but made Fred and George's prank all the more impressive.

"They complained that we had managed to dodge their last three prank attempts because we keep checking our food and drinks for them, and then hit me with the charm. They said they wanted to be able to tell us apart." Her ears twitched, and Hermione huffed. "They _will_ regret this."

"We've been reading some of the more advanced transfigurations, and plan to do something similar back to them. Subtler and glamoured so they don't notice, but make it so everyone can tell them apart." The other Hermione grinned.

Harry smiled. They were having fun without him, but at least he could share in it when he talked to them. Not that he wanted to be pranked by the twins, they would probably come up with something terrible. "Um... I know I wanted to ask you something when I started this, but now I've forgotten."

"Harry..." One said as the other just sighed. "You finish your potions essay?"

Harry glanced over to his desk where the twenty inches of parchment was sat, filled with scribbles on the importance of the moon in brewing potions. "Yeah, it's done. Not up to your standard, but I finished it. It wasn't that."

"Transfiguration? No, your essay on that was good. Was it a letter your received, or did you get somewhere with your–"

"Oh, right! Gringotts letter!"

"–Occlumency."

Harry reached over to his rickety bedside table and grabbed the letter he had received earlier days before. "So, back on the twelfth I got a letter from Gringotts saying they finally had a way to contact me through Hedwig. Don't know how that happened, but she's got the fancy medallion now. There was a bunch of stuff about my accounts, how much money I had, _property_ –I mean, I own three houses? Actual houses! But the big thing was this _Potter Regent_ person. They're related to me somehow, but Gringotts won't say _how,_ for my safety or something. Do you have any idea, Hermione? They took me on as a ward and sent me a signed Hogsmeade slip, which was weird. Apparently they’re my guardian now so I should probably know who they are."

Both Hermiones paused and looked at each other. The one without any cat-ears even started biting her lip; something Harry knew she only did when worried.

Them being worried was not encouraging. He knew they had something to do with why he got his Gringotts letter, that much Hedwig had made clear. "Hermione? You know something, tell me."

"Harry, how have you been getting on with your Occlumency?"

He flinched slightly. He had wanted to do well at it, to stop the dreams he had been having of that corridor, but meditating was hard. He had never liked sitting still and trying to learn Occlumency demanded a lot of it. "I've... been trying."

"Then... I'm sorry, Harry, but I–we can't tell you. They have custody of us too, and it's important who they are doesn't get revealed. If Snape or Dumbledore..." Hermione-cat-ears shook her head lightly. "Dumbledore will want custody of you back, and if he knows who it is he will get it. I'm–he could've signed your Hogsmeade slip in third year, you know? Sirius wasn't, and still isn't, legally responsible for you. It was Dumbledore's signature that let you go this last year."

Harry's eyes went wide. "What do you mean?"

"Before... no. Everyone has a legal guardian, but while you live with your relatives they _aren't_ your guardians. Not under magical law, anyway. Only a muggleborn's parents count, and they still need to appoint a proxy. You were Dumbledore's ward, supposed to be under his care. My parents sent a letter to McGonagall to sign my slip, since she was their proxy. I didn’t know that then. I only learnt about the proxies when I decided to stay for the Yule Ball and asked my parents for permission."

Harry frowned. If Hermione was right, and she usually was, then he shouldn't have been with the Dursleys–or at least should have had a different option. Dumbledore had said there was protection on the house so he was safe, but he didn't really stay in it much anyway, so how much help was it? He wasn't happy with Dumbledore for ignoring him or setting watchers on him while he was locked up with the Dursleys, but even living with the old man would have been better than being stuck here.

"So I don't want to go back to being Dumbledore's ward. Why?"

"Because they Potter Regent is planning on taking you away from the Dursleys for good."

"–and you wouldn't be alone, Harry. We're both the regent's wards as well, so wherever you ended up we would too. Don't think they could take you away from your friends."

Harry nodded slowly. He didn't think it would really happen, of course, because Dumbledore would stop it. That or the regent would turn out to be dangerous and worse than even the Dursleys, although that would be difficult it was possible if they turned out to be a Death Eater. "Are you sure they're trustworthy? The bank won't say anything about them. You know something, so tell me–"

"Harry, please, it needs to be kept a secret. We... we know who the regent is. It's someone you trust and know, okay? Please, don't try and figure it out."

Harry was confused. The cat-eared Hermione was glaring at the other Hermione who had just spoken. She stopped and sighed after a few moments, but it was still strange. The two hadn't seemed to get angry or annoyed with each other in any of their other conversations, and been very touchy-feely with one another whenever they got upset.

Something he didn't mind seeing at all. Even if it made him feel a little guilty to think or dream about his best friend in that way.

Harry sighed and grumbled. "Fine, I'll work on my Occlumency. _You_ need to get the mirror to Ron, I want to talk to him and it's been almost a week since I asked." He gave them the best glare he could muster.

After a few sidelong glances at each other, the ear-less Hermione spoke. "Alright, fine. You better put effort in, Harry. I'll give the mirror to Ron tomorrow."

Their conversation petered off after that. None of them could find anything else engaging to discuss. Eventually Hermione called an early night and went to bed, leaving Harry to his own thoughts. He wasn't _happy_. Hermione was keeping things from him. She had a reason, and even told him the reason, but she was keeping secrets. They were best friends, they weren't supposed to keep secrets from each other. Not things that meant something to both of them. There were some things he just didn't want to talk about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have now seen the very first scene I wrote for this story. Nine chapters and close to sixty thousand words in; clearly I'm not good at starting at the beginning.


	10. Ch. X - Hermione And Missing Mia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took far longer to write than it should have. First, there was a heatwave (I’m British, heat is anathema), then there were plot bunnies. Angsty plot bunnies. They were distracting. Then… family.
> 
> Let’s not talk about that.
> 
> All in all, this is probably a bit rushed and I didn’t have the time I wanted to leave it to sit before editing, so sorry for any errors.
> 
> Many thanks to Tyrannic_Puppy for providing comments and beta work on this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: Despite there only being three wand core types common in Britain, were Harry and Voldemort’s wands the only ones to ever demonstrate Priori Incantatem? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.

**22nd of July, 1995,  No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

Hermione knocked on Ron’s door and waited. She didn’t want to be doing this, but it was her or Mia. That of the two of them it would be her was a foregone conclusion. Ron could keep a secret, so she wasn’t worried about him letting slip about the mirror and exposing it by talking about it. No, she worried about his carelessness, or that he might turn Harry against her. That memory–the idea that Harry would choose Ron over her, even after he did–it wasn’t something worth contemplating.

The door suddenly opened, revealing Ron in his pyjamas. He was scowling as he opened the door–maybe she had picked a bad time.

“Ronald,” She started, “Harry…” She glanced down the corridor. “Can I talk to you privately?”

He scoffed but let her inside and closed the door. “You don’t talk to me for over a week, and now you’re asking for me in private? What do you want Hermione?”

Hermione sighed. “Maybe I overreacted. But you!” She points a finger at him, then realises what she was doing. “No, that’s not why I’m here.” _No matter how much I think you should apologise._ “I’m here because I have a way of talking to Harry, and _he_ wants to speak to you.”

“And how long have you had this?” Ron demanded, “How long have you been talking to Harry behind my back?”

“Firstly, it’s Sirius’, and he made the decision to give it to me, not you. Second, we’ve only had it a week. I would’ve shared it with you sooner if you just apologised.” Hermione matched his glare with her own. She only relented to pull the communication mirror out of her bag. “Here, you tap it with your wand and say ‘Harry Potter’. That’s it. If you let your mother know about it, or any of the Order other than Sirius, then they will confiscate it. I’ll be mad at you, Sirius will be mad at you, and Harry will be mad at you.”

“I’m not stupid, Hermione.” Ron took the mirror and tossed it onto his bed.

Hermione grit her teeth as Ron threw the mirror and decided not to point out how his actions don’t match his words. He isn’t normally stupid, just lazy, careless, and inconsiderate. “No, you’re not; you’re just careless.” She sighed and took finished with a softer tone. “Just be careful with it, Ron.”

She quickly left the room. It was just as messy as his bedroom at the Burrow had been. It was obvious in hindsight that the only reason the boy’s dorm stayed tidy was because of the castle’s elves rather than any of them cleaning up after themselves. Not a pleasant discovery. She now knew more than she had ever wanted about the scent of a teenage boy’s bedroom.

**22nd of July, 1995, No. 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey**

“–And Ginny went and nicked George’s broom to play chaser and help me practice keeping. I’m thinking I could really do good on the team this year, you know?”

“Sounds great, Ron.” Harry grinned at Ron through the mirror. He’d enjoyed talking with Hermione plenty, but just getting to chat about Quidditch and the events at the Burrow from just after they left Hogwarts was refreshing. No worries about Cedric, Voldemort, Death Eaters, or his own troubles. Just conversation with his friend.

“Wish you’d been with us for that; your broom is way better than mine and would’ve been great to practice with.” Ron scowled and picked at his jumper. “Shame you’re not here, at the, er, house. If you were me and Hermione probably would’ve stopped fighting by now.” He picked something up and tossed it to the side “I didn’t mean to upset her, right? She just bloody got mad at me over nothing.”

“Her parents died, and…” Harry shrugged. He knew why Hermione had gotten upset, it made sense to him. “You need to figure something out, Ron.”

“I had it all planned, prepared a speech an’ everything! I just–” Ron threw his hands in the air. “I was confused, alright? There were two of them, and it’s Hermione, I just knew she’d be all about books and homework, and not care about her appearance, or that they looked the same. They were _identical,_ Harry. I already have twin brothers, I don’t need twin friends. I wanted to be able to  tell them apart.”

“They’re the same person, Ron.”

“Yeah, and they’re both bloody mad at me! Ginny’s been telling me to apologise and make up with them, but she got mad at me–I mean they got mad at me. It’s _still_ bloody confusing.”

“You know she hates nicknames,” Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation. “And you forgot the name of her Mum.”

“It was nearly two years ago! How was I supposed to remember?”

Harry decided it was better not to comment. Ron didn’t have the best memory and reminding him that it had come up more than once wouldn’t go over well. The Yule Ball had even used all of their full names when they were announced, but Ron had been so mad that Hermione was with Krum he probably hadn’t noticed. “You said you prepared a speech?” Harry tried to put Hermione going to the ball with Krum out of his mind. It annoyed him for some reason.

“Yeah, I did. Practised in front of a mirror too. Wanted to tell her how sorry I was that her parents were gone, and how Mum would take care of her if she needed it. Show her we cared, right? That I was glad she was okay and all that stuff.” Ron groaned and covered his face with his hands. “I bollocksed it up though. The moment I saw them I got nervous, they were staring at me in that way she does. You know, when we’ve not done our homework and she’s all grumpy?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I do. Brilliant but scary, right?”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded back. “Got any ideas, Harry?”

Harry didn’t respond at once, carefully keeping his mouth closed. He had to try _something_ to get his friends back to talking to each other–but if he messed up he could make Ron repeat what he did back in November. He didn’t want that, it had been terrible. Harry didn’t care much about what the rest of the school thought of him–he was used to people hating him. But his friends abandoning him hurt.

“I think,” Harry said carefully, “that you should apologise. She was…” Harry trailed off. Ron was scowling, and his ears turned a little red.

Ron muttered something Harry couldn’t hear, forced a smile onto his face and loudly changed the subject. “With Olly gone last year, who do you think is gonna be captain of the team, Harry? Won’t be Fred or George, McGonagall would never give it them. You got any guesses?”

“Ron, really, you should–”

“Angelina or Alicia? I don’t think it’ll be Katie. Fred always says she hates the idea of being captain or running the team.”

Harry sighed. At least he had tried. Hopefully Ron would say whatever needed to be said on his own, or Hermione would forgive him, and things would go back to normal. As normal as things could be with two Hermiones being around, anyway. “Angelina, I think. Oliver had her learning some stuff with him back in third year. She and Alicia both tended to go though, so I don’t really know.”

It was good to relax, but Harry couldn’t help but wonder if Ron was avoiding important topics a bit too much. Quidditch was seeming less important than his friends, and Voldemort, the more he thought about it. People had already died. He couldn’t just go flying and forget about that.

**26th of July, 1995,  No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

Hermione was in a rush to get back to her room. They’d had yet another fight with Mrs Weasley, and Mia had stormed off quickly. She hadn’t even properly tried to argue and get her wand back. It had been inevitable that they would get caught; they were too used to using magic to clean the house, and since they had Sirius’ approval there shouldn’t have been anything Mrs Weasley could do.

Except, Mrs Weasley apparently disagreed. Remus had seen them he had slipped away without them noticing and told Mrs Weasley. She, herself, had slipped her wand to Kreacher and asked him to take it to their room as soon as Mrs Weasley had burst in. He’d given her an odd look, but when Mrs Weasley disarmed Mia and confiscated her wand he had vanished. 

After Mia had stormed off without her wand Hermione had suffered a rather humiliating search. Mrs Weasley grumbling at her for breaking the law–as if it was one worth paying attention to–and demanding her wand. Remus had lectured her on _all_ of the details of the underage magic law at the same time. She could probably recite the entire Reasonable Restrictions for Underage Sorcery from memory after that. It was horrible.

As she opened the door to her room, she found it a mess. A shattered plate sat in one corner, the king size bed’s pillows had been scattered everywhere, and Mia was lying on the bed kicking at the covers repeatedly. The only thing untouched was the desk with their books. Even in her rage Mia had avoided damaging their books.

“I–this is just–I can’t.” Mia finished kicking the covers off of the bed hugged herself tightly. “Why? Why does she think she can do this?” Mia grit her teeth and grimaced. “It’s my _WAND_! How can she think she is allowed to just TAKE it from me?!”

Hermione wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. Mia wasn’t crying, wasn’t sad, she didn’t need a hug. Grabbing her wand Hermione started tidying up the room, idly casting _Reparo_ on the broken plate and levitating the strewn pillows back to where they belong. When she had finished, she sat down next to the eerily quiet Mia and gently touched her hand.

Mia growled incoherently, pushed herself up off the bed, and began pacing back and forth across the room. “I can’t–I need to get out of this house. I can’t stay–I just can’t. It’s too much, too bloody much!”

“Mia?” Hermione stepped forward, reaching out with her wand towards Mia. “I know she took yours–but I–if you need it you can…” Hermione swallowed, she was offering something uncomfortably personal. They’d swapped wands by accident once or twice, but doing it intentionally felt different. Very different. “You can use my wand, so you can… apparate out. Take the day, I’ll be fine on my own.”

Mia just stared at her hand, her wand. Unblinkingly watching her. Hermione hadn’t seen Mia like this since she had killed Yaxley.

“No–no. Just; no. I’ll get my wand back, have Kreacher get it back, have Sirius get it back–something. You need to keep using the detection charms, be ready to talk to Harry when we get the mirror back.” Mia finally looked away from her. Instead scanning the room, glancing at the neat piles of books and notes. “I–there are things I need to do. I was going to leave them for later–but now is as good as any time. I’ll be gone a few days; just say I feel sick and keep everyone out of the room.”

With that Mia grabbed the expanded bag and stormed off. Hermione was left alone, standing in a room that suddenly felt empty. She hadn’t been without Mia in nearly four weeks. They had only really split up to go to the bathroom before, or for a couple of hours when Mia had replaced their letter to Harry. It felt… wrong for Mia to be leaving. Hermione shivered; she couldn’t help but worry that Mia was going to get herself in trouble or do something reckless. She had been too angry to think straight.

Hermione stood there with her arm still outstretched and stared at the door. She would have to talk to Harry without Mia, she needed–Sirius. She could tell Sirius to get the mirror back. He would know Mia was out anyway, he would understand she was upset. Maybe he could help her practice while she was gone; she needed to get better. She needed something to do. Mia was right. Being trapped in the house was hard to bear; being trapped in the house with Mrs Weasley was too much.

–oOoOo–

Sirius handed her the mirror with a wink. He’d gotten it off Ron almost as soon as she had asked, but taken his own chance to talk to Harry, so it had taken a surprisingly long time to get back to her.

“Hermione? Sirius said he–” Harry’s voice came through the mirror, but Hermione quickly snatched it and interrupted him.

“Harry!” Hermione beamed at him through the mirror. It’d been four days since she had given the mirror to Ron, and he hadn’t given it up until Sirius collected it off of him. With Mia gone she desperately needed someone to talk to. “How are you doing? It’s been a few days–we’ve been stuck cleaning as usual, but we got access to the _library,_ finally. It’s even better than I’d dreamed! It’s not as big as Hogwarts, obviously, but it’s got so many old books in it. There’s even one on House Elves and how they became enslaved! I have proof that they aren’t naturally subservient! Well, me and Mia do, I mean. She’s the one who found the book, but we both read it and found the evidence.”

Harry was grinning madly at her, and she couldn’t help but grin back.

“We finished off all of our homework now, have you finished yours? I would have loved to help you, but Ron wouldn’t give up the mirror until I asked Sirius for it. I don’t know if there was a fight or anything, but he hasn’t looked happy all day. Ron, that is. Oh! We got back at the twins too; we decided that if they were going to make Mia into a cat they should get to taste catnip for a few days. They’ve barely eaten anything and looked ill every time Mrs Weasley forced them to.”

Harry covered his mouth with his hand, muffling his laughter. It would’ve been nice to hear him laugh openly, but he still had to keep quiet. Blasted Dursleys.

“Catnip is in the mint family, but from the way they’ve acting it’s nothing so pleasant. Or really strong. I’ve actually taken to using the spell on some of my own food, since it doesn’t have to be catnip flavour; I’ve been making the Brussel Sprouts taste like carrots. It’s weird, but it makes eating a lot more pleasant since I can just meddle with the flavours however I want.”

She paused; the topic of food wasn’t where she had expected this conversation to go, but Mia had said Harry had issues with getting enough food in the past… “I’ve been thinking about that, have you been eating right? I know your… relatives don’t feed your properly, Harry, but how has it been this summer? Should I be trying to send you snacks with Hedwig?”

Harry blushed and murmured something she couldn’t quite hear. It was probably him saying he was fine; which meant he wasn’t. She’d send a shrunken package of food with the next letter, after making sure it was potion free. But if she got caught then she would have to warn him about the potions, in case Mrs Weasley got any ideas. She had already bought some Honeydukes chocolate that Ron was going to send for Harry’s birthday, maybe it would be good to sneak about and take a look at them?

“Been an eventful few days then, Hermione?”

Hermione blushed. She hadn’t let him say a single word since he called had called. “Well, yes. Mia’s out at the moment–trying to get her wand back from Mrs Weasley.”

“Huh?”

“We got caught using magic to clean–we had Sirius’ permission to do it, but Professor Lupin didn’t seem to care. Just went and got Mrs Weasley when he found us; came back with her and lectured us on the undergage magic laws–which are totally unfair by the way–and they took her wand off of her. I managed to hide mine so we still have a wand between us, but she got really upset about it.” She sighed and flopped back onto the bed. “We had just gotten past dodge practice too, we were going to move on to actual sparring soon.”

“That’s terrible, Ron… he–” Harry frowned and shook his head. “Hermione, Ron was–he does care that... about what happened to you, he just–”

Hermione rolled her eyes. She didn’t need to hear about Ron, she had lost all of her doubts about Mia’s future by this point. She would never be friends with him again. “You’re not an owl, Harry. If he wants to tell me something he can do it himself.”

“You haven’t given him a chance! He was just shocked by there being two of you. He’s your friend, we’re supposed to forgive friends… aren’t we?”

“I’m not letting him drag me off alone to apologise, Harry. If he wants to make it up to me, he can say whatever he wants to say in public: just like how he insulted me in front of everyone before.” She snapped. “It’s not like this is the first time, or are you forgetting the Yule Ball already? I was having a wonderful night until he got angry with me.” She couldn’t look at him, so she turned away and glared at a wall. It was tempting to just end the call–to storm off, but she shouldn’t. Being mad at Harry wasn’t the right way to handle this. It was Ron who she didn’t want to be friends with.

If only it was so easy to not get frustrated with someone. “Have you made any progress with your Occlumency?”

Harry sighed “Hermione, I’ve… I’ve really been trying with my Occlumency. I have. But… I just don’t get how to meditate–sitting still is hard.”

“Oh.” She blinked. Of course Harry had trouble with meditating–he only sat still when he was upset about something. Even in class he was always fidgeting. They hadn’t thought the advice they’d given him through properly, had they? “Harry? We can help a lot more once we met with you in person, but for now, rather than completely emptying your mind, try to… what relaxes you most? Flying?”

“Flying does, yeah.”

Hermione pouted. It wasn’t a surprise that it was his passive attempts at suicide by broom that relaxed him most, but that didn’t mean she would ever be happy about it. “Well, I relax by sitting back and just letting go–preferably with a book so I have new information to sort, but that wouldn’t work for you. The basic advice is to empty your mind, then build up the defences from that emptiness. It was easier for me to work from a point of relaxation, so I built my defences around–”

“Books, right. You want me to relax by thinking of flying? To protect my mind by… out flying invaders?”

She shook her head. “No, that’s not it. You need to be relaxed, have as little as possible in your mind. Anything that’s there while you build your defences is vulnerable, as well as anything associated with it. So, for me, no matter what I do someone who tries to read my mind will be able to read _Hogwarts: a History_ from my head, and that makes my defence a lot weaker. I can’t fix that unless I completely rebuild everything from a blank mind.”

Harry nodded. “Okay, I’ll try again with that… thanks, Hermione.” He was frowning, much to Hermione’s concern.

She was worried he was angry with her. That he was resenting her for not telling him everything and that it would only get worse the longer it took. “Look, Harry… I want to tell you–”

“I get it, Hermione.” He sighed, turned away and looked away from the mirror. “I know why you’re not telling me. I can’t keep your secrets safe, so I can’t be trusted with them. I get it.”

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled. “Harry? If–if things get bad enough at the Dursleys you need to leave again, don’t go to Diagon. It’s not safe. Send us a letter with Hedwig, just put, um, what was the game you said Dudley used to play with you?”

“Harry Hunting,” Harry growled the words and didn’t turn his head back. He ran a hand through his hair and glared at something in his room; Hermione couldn’t even see his eyes.

Hermione winced. He wasn’t happy–not with her, not with the subject. It didn’t matter, she was the one who had upset him. “Well, um, maybe not that. Just mention your cousin in an odd way–King Dudley would work? And after you’ve sent it get to King’s Cross. One of us can sneak out and bring you here. It’s… it’s a backup plan, in case something happens.”

“Did you come up with this just now?”

“No, we’ve been thinking about it for a while. If something like your third year happens–or what happened to… me, then you need to have somewhere to go. It wouldn’t be hard to meet you at King’s Cross and–”

Hermione was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Sorry, Harry, someone’s here. Talk to you soon, okay?” She heard him mumble his goodbyes as she tapped the mirror with her wand and it went blank. Within a few moments she was opening the door, revealing Tonks grinning at her.

Hermione sighed. She hadn’t needed to cancel the call with Harry after all; Tonks was in the know and it would have been fine. It was annoying, and she was still angry with the woman for interrupting her time with Harry. Still, Harry had told her to give Tonks a second chance, so maybe she should. “Hello, Tonks. Does Mrs Weasley want something?”

Tonks glanced around briefly–reminding Hermione that Mia was still out and that she was alone. “Nah, I’m here to ask if you’ve got ideas for what to get Harry for his birthday? I’ve asked Mum if she’s got any photos of Charlus or Dorea lying about, since she was friends with ‘em. Figured I should ask if you’d like me to pick something up for you?” Tonks fidgeted slightly, shifting back and forth and scratching at her wrist.

Hermione blinked; that wasn’t what she expected at all. “I–I’ve picked out a couple of books to give him. Defence ones. But I’ve… maybe he could do with a wand holster?” Hermione started chewing on her lip. She hadn’t really been thinking about his birthday as a birthday, only as yet another day she wouldn’t be able to see Harry properly. “And he could do with new shoes, muggle ones; his don’t fit right and I’ve seen him rubbing his feet after wearing them.”

“Shoes and a holster, huh. Practical. Does the… oh what do I call her? Other you? Does she have any ideas for what to get Harry?”

“She’s picked out a couple of books too. And she’s giving him the gift we bought earlier in the summer… before…” Hermione trailed off and looked down. She wasn’t on the Elixir of Sorrows and didn’t think she could fake it right, but she tried. She tried to pull at the last memory she had seen–that feeling of seeing Harry, but him–it hit her and she was crying. Her breath hitched and suddenly there were arms around her.

“Merlin, Hermione, I’m bloomin’ sorry, I was–I was a right _git_ pulling you off Harry like that. I shouldn’t have done it. Can’t imagine you felt good after Yax’ did what he did and died on you. Can’t believe I worked with the bloke…” She trailed off as Hermione sobbed. “Ah, hell, I’m not good at this. Mum’s the one for dealin’ with crying, not me. I’m meant to make people laugh.”

There was a strange snorting sound and Hermione looked up a little. “Come on,” Tonks with her now very nasally voice, distorted by her newly grown pig nose. “Laugh with me, at me.” Her hair flickered and her ears grew and flapped. “Hey? ‘S alright, you’re okay. You’ve got… hell, you’ve got your sister–or what have you–and Harry. You’re not alone, you know?”

Hermione’s lips quirked into a tiny smile and she let out a wet little giggle. Not so much at the faces and morphing, but at her fumbling and awkward attempt to cheer her up.

“There you go,” Tonks grinned and her body slowly shifted into a mirror of Hermione’s own. “Hey, why don’t we prank the others with triplets? Get your better half–” She winked. “–and let’s go have some fun?” Her robes weren’t quite falling off of her, but the older woman was definitely taller than Hermione was. She was swimming in them.

Hermione grinned but shook her head. “No, no. Mia’s feeling sick and–” She snapped her jaw shut. She’d just called Mia Mia to someone else. She wasn’t supposed to do that, probably.

“Mia, huh. So you do have different names for each other. What’s yours?”

“… I don’t, and Mia only wants me to call her that. We’ve–we’ve only told Harry.”

“Why only her?” Tonks grin shifted into a frown, and her hands moved to Hermione’s shoulders. “That don’t seem fair to me.”

Hermione kept her mouth shut and shook her head. This was getting uncomfortable quickly.

“Alright, alright.” Tonks dropped her hands away and tried to lean on the wall, only to start sliding and have to catch herself as she fell. “Gah. Merlin, why’re the walls slippery?! This house is bloomin’ cursed!” She pulled herself upright and sighed. “I won’t push, it’s your business what you call yourselves, not mine.” She blew a lock of hair out of her face, causing it to turn purple. “Merlin knows _I_ get antsy over my name.”

“Why don’t you just go by Dora?”

“’Cause one of old boyfriends called me that and he was a right git. Bad memories.” Tonks shrugged. “Stupid reason, really, but it’s what I got.” She turned back into herself and grinned at Hermione. She then kicked the door shut and tossed a privacy ward at it. “Speakin’ of _boyfriends_ you gettin’ on well with Harry? How’s he liking having two girls?”

Hermione’s immediate blush felt like it was threatening to set her shirt on fire. The idea of being with Harry, along with Mia–it was weird. Just weird. “He’s not my boyfriend.” She managed to stammer out.

“Well, you got to work on that then. He’s a good kid, and my new favourite cousin.” Her face–still Hermione’s face–shifted to grow a dog snout. “Ruttin’ mutt’s ‘ill ‘nying.”

“What?”

Tonks’ dog snout quickly shifted away. “I said, the rotten Mutt’s still as annoying as ever. Sirius, I call him mutt whenever he uses my first name, or one of his dumb nicknames.” She shifted back into her usual self, filling out her robes again. “Right, so wand holster and some shoes? I’ll get ‘em and tell you the price after. Gotta stop back at home to nab some muggle dosh from dad to buy the shoes. He can slap an enchantment or two on ‘em as well, make sure they fit. Will do once I tell him it’s for Harry, anyway.”

“Um. Thanks Tonks, I’ll sort out the money–”

“Don’t fuss, I’ll be a while, right? See you in a couple days, ‘Ni.”

Hermione blinked. “Huh? Ni?”

“Don’t be mean and make her call you Hermione, it makes her out to be _less_ Hermione than you. It’s not right.” She grinned back at Hermione as opened the door. “It’s alright to make mistakes, but own up to ‘em when you do, okay?”

“Thanks Tonks…” Hermione was a little stunned. She hadn’t even considered how Mia was feeling when she called her Hermione. She’d looked so upset when she had told Harry to call her Mia… She snapped her head up “Wait! Tonks, um… Thank you. Really, I–I was holding a grudge. You were protecting Harry, you took him–just, thank you.”

“You’re a good kid, Hermione. Almost makes me wish I’d still been at Hogwarts when you and Harry were first years, would’ve loved to have met you sooner.” Tonks waved and walked off, leaving Hermione alone in the house’s master bedroom.

It had only been nine hours, and it still felt strangely empty without Mia around. Hermione resolved to do better for Mia, she hadn’t properly been paying attention to Mia’s stress and the explosion today was proof enough of that.

**29th of July, 1995,  No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

It was three days later, and Hermione was brooding while having a long soak in a bubble filled bath. It wasn’t something she would normally do, but the house felt oppressive without Mia. Mia had been someone that she could talk to about anything, someone who she could trust and respect. Someone who knew what was happening. Sirius had made enquiries into where Mia had gone, and when she couldn’t answer he had turned cold. There was no comfort coming from him anymore.

Tonks been back to visit yet either; she was probably busy performing her duties as an Auror or watching Harry for Dumbledore. Harry himself she had talked to, but it was strained. She kept having to make excuses for why Mia wasn’t there, and somehow Harry could already tell them apart. She had asked how, and he’d just told her that she was the one who killed Yaxley, and that it showed.

He didn’t know how right he was.

At least she had finished telling him the full plan to get him to Grimmauld, sent him a food package, and managed to check the Honeydukes chocolate. Slipping Hedwig the shrunken package had been a little tricky but she had been very cooperative. The chocolates hadn’t even been opened, the original seal was still intact. A good thing, as such a hap-hazard method of dosing could be dangerous. You never knew how much someone might eat at once, and overdoses were had some horrific side effects.

She sank deeper into the water, letting her hair fan out around her as she worried over what was taking Mia so long. She really had messed up; Mia had said to call her Mia because she didn’t deserve better. Hermione didn’t know what to call her, but it was something she would have to think about. She couldn’t stay Mia forever; not if she hated it.

A faint _Crack_ echoed in the bubbles of the bath and startled Hermione into sitting upright. Standing there, dishevelled and with blood soaked through her jumper, was Mia. Mia leaned over the sink and held herself up with one arm, dropping something into the sink as she did so. She kept the other arm cradled to her chest and heaved heavy breaths. Mia didn’t seem to have noticed Hermione was in the room in there and began talking to herself.

“Stupid. Stupid; could have died…” Mia bent over and pressed her head into the mirror over the sink. “Where would Harry be then, Hermione doesn’t know enough. Nowhere near enough. Stupid, reckless, Gryffindor… can’t take an old woman’s… nearly… because I can’t deal with people–”

“Mia?” Hermione whispered, trying not startle her–her other half. Her duplicate; her friend. “Are you okay?”

Mia whirled about in surprise with her wand snapped into her hand, only to blink at Hermione’s undressed state. “Oh.” She blinked again and turned away. “Um, sorry.”

Hermione sunk back into the water so that she was covered by the bubbles and pressed for an answer. Clothing could wait, Mia was hurt. “Mia. Are. You. Okay?”

“Yes. I’m… I’m not bleeding, I had it healed; goblin healing, so it will leave a scar, but nothing else. No lasting pain or anything.” Mia sheathed her wand in a holster on her wrist and traced a line from her collar bone down her torso and wrapping around her side by her breast. “It was bad, but really, I’m fine.” She pulled at the bloodstained jumper. “I’ll need a change of clothes though, these are a bit ruined, I think. I–Hermione–”

“Ni, call me Ni.”

“Ni?” Mia turned back briefly before looking away again. “Oh–explain later, I’ll get out of the way so you can finish your bath. Don’t–the ring in the sink is a Horcrux. Leave it alone for now, we’ll deal with it when I’m… not covered in blood.”

“I’m done anyway. Let me just dry off quickly.”

Mia nodded and made her way out of the bathroom.

Hermione quickly pulled herself out of the bath, grabbed her wand and dried herself off. Using magic for that seemed silly most of the time–and did terrible things to her hair–but this was urgent. Throwing a bathrobe on she left the bathroom with a single glance at the Peverell family ring in the sink and shivered. She wasn’t looking forward to performing the ritual to cleanse it any time soon; who knew what their magic connecting might dredge up this time.

As she stepped back into her bedroom she wasn’t greeted by just Mia; Sirius was there as well. Glaring at Mia. Mia was sat in the chair by their desk, arms crossed and only wearing a torn and bloody undershirt. The entire top left of the shirt had been torn away, leaving a gaping hole that revealed a scar that must have been inches wide and nearly a foot long. “Mia…”

“You’re both here. Good.” Sirius growled, “You can tell me _what the_ _hell_ you have been up to girls, because I’m not stupid. You vanish from the house and the Potter Regent becomes active. Dumbledore had to use every connection he had to get even a whisper of what was going on, and it started less than an hour after you left.”

Mia said nothing and stared at Hermione, merely shrugging lightly.

“Well? Tell me I’m wrong, go on. Lie to my face that you don’t know who the regent is.” Sirius rumbled threateningly, looming over Mia. “Do it. Lie to me again.”

“We never lied;” Hermione burst out. Mia rolled her eyes at her but gestured for her to continue. “We said ‘everyone who we believe could be the Potter Regent _is in this house.’_ It wasn’t a lie.”

“Half-truths are hardly better.” Sirius turned to her and snarled, all his teeth sharper and pointier than Hermione remembered. “How do you plan to justify this, justify stealing and wasting Harry’s money! Some friends you are!”

“Hiring curse breakers to destroy a part of Voldemort’s immortality is hardly a waste of Harry’s money.” Mia stated calmly. She turned her gaze to Sirius, her face totally blank. “Don’t tell Dumbledore this, he’ll obliviate you. Horcruxes. The basics are in _Secrets of the Darkest Art._ You’ve got three copies in the library, not including the one Dumbledore stole. Take the 1349 edition, it’s the only one that mentions how to destroy them.” Mia snorted. “It doesn’t have every way of doing it, and not the one we’re using, but it’s better than the copy Dumbledore took. He thought newest was best and ignored the others.”

Sirius stared at Mia. “Immortality. Explain.”

Mia sighed. “I’m not telling you everything, not how I know these things. Harry hears it first.” She met his gaze and a feral look took over her face. “ _I will not budge on that.”_

Hermione couldn’t help but flinch; it was alarming to see such ferocity on her own face.

“Tom Riddle, the son of a squib dark lord, has seven Horcruxes that make him immortal. Killing him will just turn him into a wraith, and not as weak a one as happened thirteen years ago. Not until all the soul-anchors are destroyed. We–” Mia gestured between herself and Hermione. “–will be performing a ritual as soon as I’m recovered to destroy this one, which will make three.”

“You’re a _child._ You should let–”

“No! No, no. No.” Mia was upright, wand in hand, and had Sirius’ wand taken from him in an instant. “You tell _Molly_ , she tells Dumbledore. You tell Remus, he tells Dumbledore. You tell Snape, he tells _bloody Dumbledore._ Skip the middleman and tell Dumbledore yourself, you get obliviated, I get obliviated, we all get obliviated, _and not one person can help Harry._ ”

 Sirius took a step forward, only to reel back in shock as Mia pushed him back towards the door with a wordless spell. “What?! How! The wards–I’m the bloody owner of the house, I _inherited_ the damn thing!”

“Figure it out yourself. Harry comes first. Now, if you want to be useful, swear to tell no one. You’ll get your explanation after Harry; he’s going to want you to know anyway.” Mia stepped back and lowered her wand. “And, honestly… I trust you. You care about Harry above all else, and that’s what matters. As soon as he has good enough Occlumency, you’ll know too.” She smiled. “I promise.”

Sirius stared at his wand in Mia’s hand and leant back onto the door. “Fuck.” He ran a hand over his face. “Fuck. Okay. Fuck.” He took a deep breath and visibly shook himself down. “Good thing I did those damn exercises. Threw Snivellus out of my mind at the last meeting; the git wanted ammunition.” His gaze was far calmer as he looked between them again. “You’re not the same, are you. Didn’t bloody see it. Four bits of immortality left, right? Fine, I swear not to tell anyone. What do you need me to do?”

“Get to Gringotts, argue your way into the Lestrange vault. You’re not disinherited, and it doesn’t matter if the ministry recognises you or not. You need into the Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault. There’s a cup, it’s one of the Horcruxes.”

“Seriously? Bella? Crap, of course that crazy bitch would have one of these things. Would think it’s an honour.” He shook his head and started chuckling.

“Sirius, what’s so… funny?” Hermione asked slowly, a little worried about being caught up in the intensity of Mia and Sirius’ standoff.

“Ah.” He kept laughing. “Well, you see, I almost swore to never inherit the house as a teenager.” He bit off his laughter and glanced over them. “Damn good thing Remus stopped me back then; magic is one of the requirements to be head of the house of black, so if I had sworn that It’d be a bit awkward.” He shook his head with a grin. “If I had, so long as I didn’t take up the position, I’d be a valid candidate, and if I did take it up, I’d lose my magic and be stripped of the position.” He chuckled again, but not for long.  “Can I have my wand back, please?” He held out a hand towards Mia.

Mia hesitated for a moment, before returning Sirius’ wand to him. He just stuffed it in a pocket without comment.

“That’s one hell of a scar, Hermione. Suppose it will help in telling you apart; unless you both wear turtlenecks.”

Hermione hadn’t noticed it before, but Sirius was pointedly looking only at their faces, and keeping his gaze steady.

Mia glanced down at her scar and sighed. “Is there any Dittany in the house? Goblin healing works wonders, but it doesn’t try to stop scarring at all. There should be a few more hours until this is permanent.” She ran a finger down the discoloured tissue. “It doesn’t matter much, but if anyone saw it there would be questions.”

Sirius snorted. “Questions. Can’t be having more of those.” He shook his head briefly before sighing. “The order keeps a stock of Dittany for injuries; I’ll go get some. You talk to Harry and tell him while I’m out.”

Mia glared at him. “Harry, as much as I wish he was, is not ready. He needs Occlumency.”

“That’s why I was coming here before I felt you break through the wards. I found an old set of children’s glasses; the ones Regulus and I were forced to wear as children. Didn’t know what they were for back then, but they block passive Legilimency and a lot of other vision-based magic. They auto-correct for people’s vision too.” Sirius pulled a small case out of a pocket and tossed it to Mia. “Unless Snivellus goes at him with a wand he’ll be fine. You weren’t going to get him to that level within the year anyway, and I’m not going to wait that long for answers.”

Mia opened the case and started casting spells at the glasses. Hermione could follow all of the wand movements, but Mia was casting under her breath again. It made trying to learn the spells infuriating, and while many of them she knew were the same as those they used to check for dark magic when sorting the houses’ curios, some of them were new.

“I… had no idea anything like this existed. That they could exist.” Mia turned them over in her hands and put them on. The glasses resized to fit her head perfectly as soon as they settled. “Wow, that’s… weird.”

“They never quite work right for those who have good vision. And the reason you didn’t know is because they basically don’t. There’s three, total, in the world. Two of them owned by the Blacks, one by the Lestranges. They were the price they paid for Bella’s betrothal and the alliance between the families.” Sirius shrugged. “Some old crazy Dutch wizard made them because he couldn’t stop seeing things, but later sold them to finance painting. I think he was famous for cutting his ear off, or something.”

Hermione blinked, that sounded suspiciously like someone she’d read about back in Primary School. She couldn’t remember the name though; it had been years since she had properly paid attention to the muggle world. They really did have a lot to catch up on if they wanted to leave the Wizarding world after Hogwarts.

“So, talk to Harry. I’ll be back shortly.” Sirius turned and left the room.

Mia went about changing her clothes without a word, leaving Hermione to contact Harry. She picked up the mirror and tapped it with her wand, “Harry Potter.”

The reflection blurred and Hermione saw blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles. It wasn’t Harry. “Ah, Miss Granger. I did wonder when you might try to contact Harry.” The Headmaster’s voice was calm, but the sound of it sent ice rushing through her veins. “I must say, Miss Granger, I am extremely disappointed in you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as something to point out, I am aware that Hermione and future Hermione’s wands would have the Brother Wand effect. Future Hermione knows about it, but it hasn’t been something relevant to talk about, so Hermione doesn’t. Harry hasn’t been particularly forthcoming about the Graveyard either. It will come up at some point when they try to spar.


	11. Ch. XI Hermione And Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably the most anticipated chapter. Unless people are demanding kissy faces; that’s… well, it’ll happen eventually. It’s meant to, at least.
> 
> On a separate note, if people have ideas for the disclaimers, I’m all ears. I’m starting to run out of the batch I prepared back before I started posting.
> 
> Many thanks to Tyrannic_Puppy for providing comments and beta work on this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: Did we ever see Harry return to Gringotts outside of robbing it after second year? If not, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.

**29th of July, 1995,  No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

Hermione recoiled from the mirror instantly, her hands leaving it to fall to the floor where it bounced softly on the carpet. Her heart racing she threw silencing charms, blinding hexes, and conjured blankets at the mirror–what if he had overheard them, what if he had been listening in? They could have been completely exposed, could have revealed every secret in the last few minutes just because someone got loose with the secret of the mirror–because _Ron_ got careless and let slip about the mirror.

Gritting her teeth Hermione clutched her hands to her chest and tried to calm her suddenly rapid breathing. She hadn’t messed up. She never mentioned the mirror outside of Mia’s privacy wards, let alone took it out of their room. She handed it off to Sirius when he wanted to talk to Harry, and took it back when he was done. The only place it had been improperly supervised was with Ronald and–he–she had _told_ him to be careful! Told him how much it would mess things up! He probably hadn’t even told anyone intentionally, just gotten careless and done something stupid.

He wasn’t a snitch, but he was never careful enough. Never properly thought about why he shouldn’t say some things in public.

Now she wasn’t going to be able to keep her promise to Harry. She had promised to spend all of his birthday talking with him, giving him the best present she could by being there for him. They had gotten caught and would be obliviated; there was no way he would let her be prefect now. Hermione could feel tears welling up in her eyes. Was everything ruined now? Would she end up being stuck in the role her future self had been condemned to? What would happen to Mia? What if–

She shook her head, chastising herself for being so weak. Worrying wasn’t helping. Hermione knelt down and reached out with her shaking arm to touch her wand to the mirror. She hoped the connection had cancelled, but maybe it couldn’t hear her through the silencing charms and would stay active–they would have to check–that thought sent her reeling again; her breaths coming ever sharper and more swiftly.

“That was Dumbledore, wasn’t it.” Mia had shucked her torn shirt and thrown a new one on. “… merlin, was it active? Did the mirror show your reflection before you tapped it?”

Hermione nodded. Her breathing was still short and rapid; she was panicking. This is what it felt like when it happened to Mia? No; Mia reacted worse. It was similar, but not as bad. She was still standing and–and now she was shaking. “Yes, I saw my–myself.” Hermione turned to Mia, her vision blurry with fearful tears. “What if he–”

“If you could see your reflection, the mirror wasn’t active; he didn’t hear anything.” Mia dropped down next to Hermione, grabbed her hands and held them tightly. “Deep breaths, Hermione, deep breaths.” Mia took in a long and deep breath, and Hermione copied her. Releasing it felt wrong, it was staggered and came out in short, harsh, puffs rather than the long and steady release Mia had managed.

“If he heard anything we can’t do anything Hermione, but he didn’t. We’ll be okay; I–I promise.” Mia closed her eyes. “Again, Hermione.”

Hermione had gotten her breathing back under control by the time Sirius came back to the room. She hadn’t gotten up from where she had knelt on the floor and Mia was still beside her, but was now wrapping her up in a hug. She was crying softly on Mia’s shoulder–everything was going wrong. First Mia got hurt, then Sirius forced them to tell him things, and now they couldn’t contact Harry properly.

Sirius hadn’t knocked or waited to be allowed in, simply walked in on his own; the wards allowing him entry. “Merlin, Didn’t mean to be so long; Molly ambushed me. Something about not letting you get away–what happened?” He stopped at the sight of them on the floor and crying. “Girls, what the bloody hell happened?”

“Dumbledore has Harry’s mirror.”

“What. Oh– _Oh bloody_ _hell no.”_ Sirius growled and stared off through a wall. “That–no, damn it you can’t…” He whirled about to leave again, but just before he stormed out he threw a small bottle at them. “Your Dittany; I’ve got someone to interrogate.” He was back out the door and had slammed it shut within moments.

As Sirius left Mia squeezed Hermione tightly with one arm and pushed the Dittany she had caught into Hermione’s hands with the other. “Okay, I’m going to put the mirror away and ward it properly, then you can smother my scar with that. Hermione, is that okay?”

Hermione nodded numbly. Doing something, anything, would be better than this. Normally she would throw herself into research to resolve a problem, but how do you resolve a wizard so much more powerful, so much older, keeping you away from your friend as a teenager. Mia could apparate out to Harry if she had to, or intercept Hedwig to give him untainted letters again, but that was risky. The mirror had been safe, secure. It didn’t require exposing themselves.

While she worried Hermione watched as Mia wrapped the communication mirror up in one of their heavier winter robes and shoved it into a drawer she had pulled out of the wardrobe. Mia didn’t just cast privacy wards on it, she started carving a rune sequence into the wood: one for silence, darkness, and secrecy. Even if the mirror did activate in that drawer there would be no way for anyone on the other side to hear or see anything.

Hermione looked away and tried to think of a way to tell Harry what had happened. He almost certainly had found the mirror missing, he treasured his way of communicating with them dearly. There were surprisingly few pieces of magic for long distance communication, almost everyone relied on the Floo or Owl mail to keep in touch. The mirrors weren’t like anything she had seen described in a book, and may well have been the first of their kind.

She needed something, anything, to work towards, but the only spell she could think of was the Patronus charm, and that would take months to learn–if she even could at all. They hadn’t needed it before because they had the mirror, but now… now they did. “Mia? Could you teach me the Patronus charm?” She wouldn’t make it in time for Harry’s birthday, and probably not even before they got on the train to Hogwarts, but she could at least make a start so this wouldn’t happen again.

Mia looked up from her rune carving “The Patronus? Why?”

“It can send messages securely.”

“It’s… secure, yes, but not terribly subtle. It would be good for you to learn though, I can’t… I can’t cast it.” Mia looked pained to have admitted her inability to cast the charm. “Yes, I’ll teach you as best I can, Hermione, but Harry will be better at it.” Mia sighed and went back to carving. “At least he’ll be here soon; I don’t know what I would do if we hadn’t been able to talk to him these last few weeks.”

After Mia finished carving the runes and put the drawer back in the wardrobe she continued on in a much quieter voice. “And I nearly died without saying goodbye anyway…” Hermione could see tears forming in Mia’s eyes, which Mia quickly wiped away. “Are _you_ okay, Hermione? I’m… coping is easier after being out of the house. Even if it was reckless, getting out and doing something has made me feel much better. Even if I was a stupid Gryffindor about it.”

“You collected one of the… one of them.” Hermione glanced at the wardrobe. She knew it was properly secured, that they wouldn’t be overheard, but the fear was still there. She didn’t want to admit to Mia just how shaken she was; how much she was upset that she might lose her Prefect status and that she wouldn’t get to tell Harry happy birthday.

They just didn’t matter compared to everything else.

Mia sat down on the floor next to her and leaned on the bed. “Time to help with my scar, Hermione, and you didn’t answer my question. _Are you okay?_ I know you’re worrying– _I’m_ worrying.”

Hermione just pulled Mia’s shirt open and started rubbing the Dittany into the scar. It was miraculous how the skin started sealing over in front of her eyes, but by the hiss of pain Mia released it was anything but pleasant.

“Ow. Ow. That hurts more than using it on a wound, somehow… Are you upset that you might not get Prefect? It’s not that important, Hermione. Even if we were going to stay it doesn’t matter that much for getting a job–”

“No!” Hermione blurted out. “No, I mean– _yes_ I’m upset about… the possibility of not being prefect. But not because of my future; _you_ said it would be useful, that it would make moving around the castle and getting things done easier. That it would make it easier to help Harry.” She looked Mia in the eye and spoke as seriously as she could. “ _That is why I’m upset about it._ ”

“Oh. I–Sorry, that was…” Mia giggled. “I was being silly, of course you’ve thought it through more than that, we’re not that shallow…”

Hermione blushed and started mumbling. “Okay, maybe I am upset because of the rest of it too. Being Prefect, Head Girl, graduating with perfect N.E.W.Ts… it’s all part of my dream.” She shook her head. “But they aren’t as important as beating Riddle or helping Harry. Nowhere near as important. My dream includes you and Harry now too, I want all three of us to graduate University together. Live some years just as regular students without…” Hermione waved a hand lazily. “All of _this_ happening.”

“It’s a nice dream, Hermione, I hope you get to see it.” There was a sad note to Mia’s voice, and her smile seemed false somehow.

“Call me Ni; Tonks… she berated me for calling you by a nickname when I don’t have one. I don’t think–you are not _less_ Hermione than I am, Mia. Without you… I wouldn’t be Hermione for much longer at all.”

Mia blinked and gave Hermione a much more genuine smile of surprise. “Oh. Thank you… Ni.”

Hermione returned Mia’s smile with a beaming grin of her own. It felt right for Mia to be back; the days without her had felt so empty and cold. It wasn’t the same way she missed Harry, she loved spending time talking to him even when he was being a moody boy. With Mia it was just like something was missing, like a limb she didn’t even know she had had been taken away.

Hermione finished tending to Mia’s scar and then they got to discussing the basics of the Patronus charm, along with other emotionally fuelled magic. Things had gone wrong, but they would be okay.

**31st of July, 1995, No. 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey**

Harry was celebrating his birthday alone. As usual. He should have had friends to talk to, he should have gotten away from his relatives, he should have done _something._ He hadn’t even gotten a letter from Hermione since they spoke three days ago; Hedwig had come back from her last trip looking frazzled and without any letters at all. When he had asked why, she had just… glared at him. She seemed reluctant to return, and it was horrible to know something must have happened to her to make her behave so differently.

He had gotten some presents–delivered by a set of tawny owls Hedwig had taken offence to–earlier in the day, but not many. Only a big box of Honeydukes chocolate from Ron, and a book from Hermione on the history of Hit Wizards and their tactics. He had expected more, really, there hadn’t even been anything from Sirius. He couldn’t help but think someone was interfering with his mail again.

It would fit; someone had sneaked into his room while he was out of the house and stolen his magic mirror. His only respite from the wonderful treatment he received from his relatives. If Hermione hadn’t sent him a parcel of food with her last letter he might have starved for real rather than the mostly starved he was used to. Harry truly hoped it hadn’t been Tonks, he had come to like the woman despite the part she played in kidnapping both Hermiones away from him. She was fun, and unlike the rest of them, willing to talk occasionally while guarding him.

Harry was still kicking the drunk at every opportunity; the git spent more time unconscious than awake whenever he showed up.

He didn’t know who to blame either; the mirror had been fine for more than a week before he made Hermione give it to Ron, so maybe he had told someone? But the Hermiones had been the last ones to have it, so it could have been them. Or maybe Sirius messed up and let slip while drunk; he got more talkative after he started drinking. Harry had learned a few things about his dad he really hadn’t needed to hear; he _didn’t_ need to know how many witches they had seduced in their fifth year. Didn’t need to know that at all.

Ron did seem the most likely suspect, despite everything. Sirius had said he was reluctant to give up the mirror, for all that he only used it three times over the four days–and one of those to try and get Harry to play the most awkward game of chess ever. He’d had to convince Ron not to take him to see Buckbeak either, as Ron had nearly just _walked_ out of his room with the mirror on before Harry had reminded him the mirror was a secret.

Harry had also found that talking about Quidditch was significantly less enjoyable when you knew you wouldn’t get a chance to fly for at least a month. All it really did was remind him how trapped he was. It would be strange to not have Wood around too; he hadn’t really dealt with that last year due to the tournament.

Harry rolled over in his bed. He missed his friends, he missed his teammates; Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Katie–even Alicia and Angelina. Maybe he should write to one of them? He couldn’t write to the Hermiones or the Weasleys, but his teammates…

Might not believe what he said about Voldemort. What if they thought he was crazy? He couldn’t send them a letter not knowing.

Harry sighed and went to the window again; Hedwig was out on a flight, and until she got back he really didn’t have much to do. He had made some progress on his Occlumency–or at least he thought he had–now that Hermione had given him the relaxing tip, but it wasn’t something fun. As he propped his head up on his elbows he saw something odd–a letter sitting on the windowsill outside. It hadn’t been delivered by owl, and was just sitting there.

He grabbed the letter and ripped it open immediately. It was from Tonks

_Hey Harry,_

_Sorry about how I delivered this, but the Orders is in a right tizzy. They’ve doubled up watch on you so I can’t get time alone to talk until the third, sorry. I’ve got your presents from the girls and Sirius to give you; Molly only let a few get sent, and banned the girls from even sending a card because they ‘endangered’ you._

_They got one present through because of how weird it would have been for them not to._

_I’m glad my Mum reacts to someone being endangered by planning to murder the danger, not trying to coddle them. I’d go spare._

_Hedwig almost got trapped in the house too, if you send her she’s probably not gonna get back to you. Not without someone getting in trouble for letting her out. You shouldn’t do that unless it’s important, they already had their library privileges revoked. They don’t need someone to try and confiscate their books too. I don’t need someone to have to try, because Dumbledore would ask me, and I only just got them to forgive me._

_Happy birthday from me, Sirius, Mia, and Ni (the girls)._

_Talk to you on the third,_

_Tonks_

Harry smiled as he finished the letter. They had managed to get him a message, and apparently Tonks and Hermione–Harry shook his head, was it really _Mia_ and _Ni_ now? Either way, it was nice they were getting along now. He wouldn’t call them by their nicknames until they told him it was okay; they were still Hermione and he could tell them apart anyway.

There was no mention of Ron though, so either had been involved in losing the mirror, or they had excluded him for some other reason. Added with Ron not getting to send a letter either, it seemed likely he was getting punished for the mirror too. Which meant he probably had been the one to reveal it somehow.

Feeling a bit better that Hermione hadn’t just gotten him a book–even if he didn’t have the other presents yet–he grabbed it and started reading. He didn’t have anything else to do; other than go back to dreaming about the graveyard and Cedric. Reading was much better.

Harry soon found himself engrossed in the tactical analysis of famous wizarding battles throughout history, including multiple fights involving Voldemort himself. He only briefly stopped to go to the bathroom and also to eat the chocolates Ron sent. Before he knew it he was yawning. As his birthdays went, it was hardly the worst he’d had; it just should have been better.

_Bloody Ron_ , was his last thought before drifting off to sleep.

**2nd of August, 1995, No. 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey**

Seeing Dudley out with his friends and bragging about bullying others sent unpleasant thoughts running through Harry’s head. He wanted nothing more than to go over and antagonise his cousin, but he wouldn’t. He forced himself to think of flying and focused on his breathing. He didn’t stop being angry by any means, but it was enough to ignore Dudley and move on; to walk to the playground on Magnolia Road in peace.

Tonks wouldn’t be around until tomorrow, and if she didn’t have good news–like being taken away to the same place everyone else was–he was going to follow Hermione’s plan and run away. His relatives were always terrible, but now that he couldn’t just talk to someone when they got on his nerves it was so much worse.

He was having nightmares again, and he felt pathetic. Three days without talking to someone and he starts crying in his sleep again. It was– _he_ was pathetic, and he hated it. He hadn’t understood just how much talking to the Hermiones about even trivial things had meant, or how much they had managed to get him to say. He’d gone back over their conversations and he had told her everything except the details of what happened in the graveyard. All of his trip through the maze, Fleur, Krum, the trophy… and Cedric.

He didn’t want either of them to know what the graveyard had been like, he hadn’t really wanted to tell them any of it, but they never brought it up. It had just slipped out as they had talked without him ever realising. As much as it rankled that they were keeping secrets, they hadn’t tried to get him to tell them what he was hiding either. Knowing that Hermione actually had a reason for what she was hiding–she _was_ Hermione–and his discovery from his new book that Master Grade Hit Wizards and Aurors both required Occlumency qualifications had made him try harder to master the skill.

The book didn’t give any instructions, but did say that it was a skill best honed with practice controlling emotions and by fighting off a trusted Legilimens’ intrusions. Which was a little worrying, as it made him suspect the Hermiones would want to practice reading his mind when he arrived. He _really_ didn’t want them seeing the dreams he had about them. They were _pleasant_ –some of the few he’d had lately that weren’t nightmares–but not something Hermione should see… or anyone, really.

When Harry reached the playground he sat on the swing and started it moving slowly. He didn’t really know why he kept coming back here; it’s not like it was better than anywhere else, but it tended to be where he ended up. Maybe because it was where Tonks had given him the mirror, and where they usually talked–but she wouldn’t be there today anyway. If he was right, it was the drunk’s turn to be on watch. If he even turned up.

It had gotten a lot harder to track him down when he did, the amount Harry had found and kicked him he must have started to lose the habit of taking naps while on shift. Harry almost regretted that now; if he could find Fletcher–that’s what Hermione had called him!–he could probably catch him and force _some_ information out. Harry sighed–he could handle one more night, but that was it.

A sudden shiver ran across Harry’s spine as the air turned cold. The sound of cars on the roads had gone quiet and he couldn’t hear the wind anymore. Even the stars had vanished, an impenetrable darkness covering the area around him. It didn’t make sense; he hadn’t done any magic. His wand was in his pocket and he wasn’t angry or upset enough for an accidental outburst like he had with Aunt Marge two years before.

It kept getting colder as he began looking around in alarm, there was something familiar about… there was no way… they didn’t have any reason to be in Little Whinging. Harry drew his wand immediately; between breaking the law and letting one of _them_ get close to him, there was no contest. He still couldn’t see them in the darkness but he heard their slow rattling breathing now, drawing ever closer.

Harry could feel them pulling at him to panic. Trying to make him relive that Halloween again, but somehow it was muted compared to what it had been. Weaker. He searched for a memory: learning that he had family–Tonks, Sirius, Tonks’ mum Andromeda who she had promised he would meet some day, Hermione–who was family, even if it wasn’t by blood.

He saw the spectres approaching now, the towering figure drawing closer. Harry raised his wand.

“ _Expecto Patronum!”_

Harry’s silver-white stag burst forth and barrelled down the Dementor, tossing it aside, before turning and doing the same to a second. They both fled the onslaught of the Patronus, swooping into the sky.

Harry didn’t wait. He ran back to Privet Drive as quickly as he could. If Dementors could reach him here then it wasn’t safe even if he was being guarded; even Dumbledore couldn’t complain if he left now.

**2nd of August, 1995,  No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

“What the bloody hell do you mean there were Dementors in Little Whinging?!”

Sirius wasn’t even trying to pretend to be calm. Mrs Figg, Dumbledore’s little Squib watcher on Privet Drive had reported that she had seen Dementors attacking Harry. That his cousin was missing. That _Fletcher_ had run off to filch. _Again._ Who gave a shit that Harry kicked the grotty git whenever he fell asleep on the job, he wasn’t supposed to fall asleep in the first place!

“Now, now Sirius… Harry fended them off perfectly fine. He was heading home at last report and was none the worse for wear.” Dumbledore twinkled over his spectacles, the very picture of a calm and wise old grandfather.

That fucking bastard.

“If you hadn’t gone and _stolen_ his mirror we would know he was fine.” _But no, you just had to take the only thing he was enjoying in that shithole. The only thing I was enjoying in my shithole of a house._ Sirius grit his teeth and bit back everything he knew he shouldn’t say to the headmaster, but didn’t even try to stifle the growl that rumbled out of his throat.

“Harry needed time alone to come to terms with–”

“Buggering shit! He was doing better the more we spoke to him! Read the bloody Auror guidebook, Albus, it tells you how to deal with the death of a colleague, _and this_ _was not it._ ” Sirius turned away and left Molly to take over the fretting and arguing with the rest of the order; they would be at it all night and get nothing done. The only thing they had agreed on was to send a letter to Harry ordering him to stay at the Dursleys, where it was _safe._ Safe enough to be kissed by a soul-sucking, despair spewing, demon.

Sirius shivered, trying desperately to push aside his memories of Azkaban, and looked out the window; it was dark. How had Harry felt to see the Dementors again? How many new horrors would they have dredged up? He should just be able to grab the mirror and call Harry, but someone lost it. He should be able to run out of the house, apparate to his godson and hold him until everything was alright.

But he couldn’t.

He’d confronted Remus first thing after he had learned the mirror had been taken and demanded answers, but the wolf had been shocked and horrified by the implication. He had known, apparently, but had kept silent on purpose. Remus didn’t have it in him fake surprise or lie like that, so it was someone else. He could rule out the girls, they never took it out of their room when they had it and used more privacy wards than Moody did on some of his better days.

Which left the Weasley boy. He claimed he hadn’t told anyone, that no one knew, but something was off. How else could it have been discovered? Was one of the Order watching Harry so closely they spied on him in his bedroom? Was some pervert watching his godson wank?!

He blinked. An owl–Hedwig! Harry’s owl!–had just shown up with a letter. Sirius opened the window as quietly as he could and tried to keep her hidden; Molly would try and cage Hedwig again if she could. She had nearly taken Hedwig through the Floo before he’d unlocked the cage and let her escape last time.

“Hey, Hedwig. Who’s the letter for?” Sirius whispered once he’d gotten her into his arms.

She clutched the letter with one talon and glared towards the door out of the kitchen; no one in the room. Knowing what he did, the girls had probably set up some kind of escape plan with Harry.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE RAN AWAY?!” Molly’s shrieked.

The girls had _definitely_ set up some kind of escape plan for Harry.

“Molly! Please calm down. Harry must have gone to look for his cousin. Harry wouldn’t run away when a member of his own family was risk of being attacked by a Dementor.” 

Sirius couldn’t see the twinkling of the Headmaster’s eyes, but he could _feel_ it in the air. The old man might even believe what he was saying, and it was all Sirius could do to ignore him and sneak Hedwig to the door. He slipped it open with ease, all the wards that they used for privacy were subordinate to the primary house wards. 

It wasn’t much of a surprise to see more of those ears-on-strings that the Weasley kids had been using on the other side. There would be no keeping this cockup a secret from anyone, no matter how Dumbledore tried to spin it. 

Sirius thrust Hedwig through the doorway and left her free to fly up to Hermione’s room. He turned around and pushed the door shut behind him. The girls were still bloody suspicious, but he had a good idea of what they had done. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time Hermione Granger had gone back in time to save someone’s life. They had just bloody better not let his godson down.

–oOoOo–

Hermione and Mia were happily grounded in their room; Mrs Weasley had tried to claim they had their library privileges revoked, and had threatened to take their books away, but there was no way she could do either. Mia just popped into the library when she knew it was empty–the wards let her know when protected rooms were occupied or not–and brought back books for both of them to read. Added to that, their room was so heavily warded Mrs Weasley would never be able to get inside. Being grounded was an inconvenience, but not much of one.

It definitely was a nuisance, however, as somehow Molly was now aware of when neither of them were in their room. She couldn’t tell if just one of them left, so must be some sort of tracker on their magical signature, since their signatures were identical. It wasn’t even legal to use any trackers on children unless they were your own, or… Muggleborn. Even if they could prove it, the bigoted laws of the Magical World meant nothing would happen anyway.

Hermione was not happy that she was stuck showering in the same room as a piece of Tom Riddle’s soul, but they didn’t have anywhere better to hide it. They certainly weren’t going to keep it in the same room they slept in.

There was a tapping on the door, not quite the knock they would normally hear–slightly sharper and faster.

Mia sighed and got up from the desk. Since Hermione was lying in bed, Mia was on door duty at the moment; easier for her to get up. As soon as Mia opened the door Hedwig burst into the room to land on the bed’s headboard, and four redheads rushed up to entrance eagerly.

“Hey, got a letter from Harry?” Ron had a lazy grin on his face, but Hermione was still mad at him. _He_ messed up and lost the mirror; did he think she would have stopped being mad after just five days?!

“Go away, Ron.” Mia said icily. Even from behind her tension was clear to see; she had clenched her fists the moment Ron’s head popped into view.

He lost his grin and glared. “Hey, he’s–”

Fred, or George, grabbed Ron and pushed him to the side. “You heard the girl Ron–” “–Don’t get them angry at the rest of us–” –”we haven’t had word from dear Harry in _days–” “–_ and don’t want the letter bearers mad at us–” “–After all, we’re a little worried after what we’ve heard with our ‘ _ears’.”_

Hermione stopped paying attention to the Weasleys reached out to Hedwig was holding the letter out to her. She glanced up at the Weasleys; Mia was keeping them in the doorway, but didn’t seem immediately inclined to closing the door on them for one reason or another.

As she was putting the letter aside to read after they were gone she caught a fierce whisper from Ginny. “ _Harry’s been attacked by Dementors! The whole Order knows!_ ”

“It’s mental, you’ve gotta–” Ron went suddenly quiet, but Hermione didn’t care to check why.

She snatched the letter back up and tore it open immediately. She could feel the blood rushing out of her face as it turned pale, the contents of the letter only confirmed what Ginny had said.

The first two lines were neat, as if he had written them in advance–not exactly subtle, but at least he had been prepared and had taken their plan seriously.

_Dear Hermione and Hermione,_

_Dudley’s being a King Prat, and my aunt and uncle are as awful as ever._

It was the rest of the letter that was alarming; it was in his worst, rushed, scrawl and her hands shook, dropping the letter, as she finished reading.

_Dementors attacked at park. used Patronus. not safe can’t stay._

_being expelled for using magic._

_Im okay._

_Harry._

Mia was staring at her from the doorway, her face pale. Hermione could tell she was seeking a denial, wanting Hermione to say that Ginny had been wrong and Harry was completely okay. “Mia…” She croaked out, feeling horrified. “He’s– _Dementors.”_

Ginny took a step towards entering the room and Mia turned around to face her abruptly. She soon stepped back,  cowed by Mia’s glare.

Mia’s voice was shaky as she spoke, but still clear. “Fred, George–can you come back in ten minutes? We’re going to need a distraction.”

The twins eyed her curiously. “And what–” “–exactly would this–” “–distraction be for?”

“Helping Harry.” Hermione spoke alongside Mia without hesitation. There was just no other possible answer.

They glanced at each other and made some minute gestures, a few waves of the hand, and turned back to Mia. “Right. Ten minutes–” “–is plenty of time to prepare.” “Where do you need people to not be?”

“The front hall, I need to get to the door.”

They nodded and grabbed their siblings by the shoulders. “Come along Ron–” “–Ginny, we’ve got preparations to make.” 

Ginny tried to protest, but was marched away along with Ron. Mia quickly closed the door and rushed over to Hermione, grabbing the letter with one hand, and Hermione’s own hand with the other.

“Mia,” Hermione squeezed Mia’s hand tightly–not reassuringly, she was gripping it as tightly as she could. “Why didn’t you tell me about the Dementors?” It was all Hermione could do to not shout at Mia; this was not acceptable. They were supposed to be working _together._ She couldn’t just not be told about a _threat to Harry’s life._

Hedwig rustled her wings behind them, agitated. Mia couldn’t stay long; she needed to be waiting for Harry at King’s Cross. It was the entire point of the code, of the plan. Yet, Mia was quiet, even as she set the letter down and trembled.

“ _Mia,_ ” Hermione demanded.

“I didn’t know,” Mia whispered, “I didn’t know about the Dementors…” She turned to face Hermione with a look of horror on her face. “I didn’t know, she–she never said why Harry cast magic! I never even knew what spell he cast!” Mia was frantic, shaking and shouting. “I didn’t know–I only know what she left for me. Her journals, the memories–I’m barely even from the future, I just _know what she told me._ The ritual–it took everything.”

Mia swallowed back a sob. “I knew lots of it was fuzzy, blurry… that she didn’t remember all of her torment properly, because of the… haziness… that I wouldn’t know everything, but I never expected _this.”_ Mia leaned forward and clung onto Hermione desperately. “ _She hid this intentionally._ I–I can understand _why._ If I–I nearly kidnapped Harry along with you, you know? It would have made a mess–the Order, the ministry, Hogwarts… it would have been _awful_ and completely impossible to predict anything.”

Hermione wrapped her own arms around Mia’s quivering form. It was hard to remember sometimes, Mia wasn’t… wasn’t _her._ This… this was Slytherin. A manipulation to make sure things went the way _she_ wanted it to. Even if it hurt someone along the way.

“ _You have to believe me, Hermione.”_ Mia begged from where she was clinging to Hermione’s shirt. “I would _never_ have left Harry there if I knew. _Never._ ”

“I believe you.” Hermione didn’t hesitate. Mia had earned her trust, and if she herself couldn’t contemplate leaving Harry where a dementor might reach him, there was no way Mia could either. They weren’t identical, but they weren’t that different. If anything, Mia was even more protective of Harry than she was.

Mia squeezed her tightly before pulling away. She was still pale, but she was smiling faintly. “I–I need to go. To Harry; tell the twins that I’ve disillusioned myself and gone to the front hall to wait for their distraction, okay?”

“Okay.” Hermione nodded and lightly squeezed Mia’s hand. “Stay safe, and take care of him.”

“Always.” Mia got up from the bed, grabbed their expanded bag, and twirled on the spot–apparating away.

Hermione turned to Hedwig. “Just you and me for a while then; better get ready for the twins.” She hopped off the bed and brushed herself off. She was smiling, despite knowing Harry had been attacked. He was going to be here soon. She would get to see him–hug him. She would be able to tell him everything. It was wrong to be happy after he had gotten attacked by Dementors, but she just couldn’t stop herself.

–oOoOo–

It was nearly midnight when Harry finally arrived at King’s Cross. He’d decided to take the muggle route, grabbing a train and riding it into London rather than getting on the Knight Bus. Using magical transport when they were planning to expel him hadn’t seemed like a good idea at the time; now though, he kind of wished he had, it had taken _hours_ to reach King’s Cross, along with all his stashed muggle money.

Of course, now he had to find Hermione–King’s Cross wasn’t small, but he could guess where she might be. The most obvious place was the entrance to Platform 9 & ¾, so that’s where he was headed. Harry wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he saw her; he was still a little annoyed she had been keeping secrets, but not having anyone to talk to the last few days had really put into perspective just how much time the two of them had spent on the mirror talking to him.

Harry was suddenly impacted from the side by a mass of brown hair and a body he remembered quite fondly. He had no idea how she had managed to sneak up on him, but it was Hermione. She had been waiting for him. Just like she had promised she would.

“Hermione,” he said.

“Harry, you’re okay.” She cried into his chest, squeezing him tightly. “I was worried–you don’t–”She pull back a little so she could stare him in the eye. “You don’t just write ‘ _Dementors attacked’_ and not give more details than that! Do you have any idea how much you scared me?!” She swatted his arm. “I should put a leash on you, since as soon as I leave you alone for a few days you get in trouble!”

He laughed and hugged her back. “Sorry, I was in a hurry. Had to give Hedwig the letter before I went to the train station.”

“You went muggle? That explains why I’ve been here for more than an _hour_ waiting for you. I almost didn’t bring any books!” She pouted briefly before looking around. There weren’t many people in the station, but it wasn’t completely deserted. “We can’t talk here, but–” She reached into a small bag, and to Harry’s surprise, her entire arm fit inside. She pulled out a small case, which she pushed into his hands. “These are your new glasses. They–they’ll work better than the ones you’ve had for years, for sure, and do more. I’ll explain it all once we get there, okay?”

He opened the case up and put the glasses on. The world abruptly became _sharper_ , more in focus. He could read the signs on the other side of the station, where before they had been blurry masses of colour. “Wow. These are… they’re amazing. Are these my birthday present?”

Hermione’s face was clearer than it had ever been before. He had known she was pretty, but sometimes it was hard to make out peoples features. Her eyes were sparkling and her smile was lighting up her face. Somehow, it was all directed at him. He couldn’t help but smile back, and not just because of the new glasses.

“From Sirius, but I was holding onto them for you. I’m not sure he remembered your birthday, sadly.” She looked down and shook her head, then snapped it back up and beamed at him. “Oh, right. Happy belated birthday, Harry. I wanted to send a card, but…” She shrugged. “We should get going, but let me stop in a nook quickly so I can put your trunk away.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him–and with him his trunk–over to an out of the way corner.

Harry watched in amazement as she manoeuvred the trunk into her tiny bag, which wasn’t much bigger than a single one of his books, let alone the entire trunk. Once she was done, she grabbed him again and started walking. “Where are we going?”

“I… I can’t say, and you know why.” She glanced back at him, still smiling. “It’s not far–no more than a twenty minute walk. No one will pay us any mind, I put a notice-me-not charm on myself before I left, and it’s still going.”

Harry nodded and kept following. He asked what had happened the last few days and was regaled with her frustration at Ron–whom she was certain was the reason they had lost the mirror– some of her more interesting discoveries in the library, and how they had started practising the Patronus charm.

“Really? You’re learning the Patronus? That’s…” Harry stopped and stared at her for a moment. “An odd coincidence.”

“Um, it is, but also not really? Professor Lupin never told you this but…” She moved closer so she could speak without any chance of someone overhearing. “One of the books we found was on emotion magic and detailed the charm in full; it can carry messages to people, and while it’s not… subtle, it can’t be stopped by anything except distance. A lot of distance.”

“Really?” Harry had thought he had mastered the charm with how easily it had come earlier, but he hadn’t even considered using it as a messenger. Maybe there was more it could do as well?

“Yeah, really.” She smiled before stepping away and starting to drag him again. Her tugging at his hand to get him move drew his attention to the fact they had been holding hands; well, to the fact that she had been holding his hand for nearly fifteen minutes. Not once in that time had the smile left Hermione’s face either. Mia’s face, if he wanted to distinguish them. “Why is it only you and not… both of you?” Harry tried to ignore the rising heat in his cheeks, and prayed that Hermione wouldn’t notice that he was blushing over holding her hand for so long.

“We’re–huh? Oh.” She looked up for a moment, but didn’t turn around. “She’s at… she stayed behind to provide cover. The Order’s a mess because you got attacked–and probably because you vanished on them.” She stopped in front of some grotty looking houses; several of them even had broken windows. “We’re here. Now… I’m sorry, Harry, but getting you inside is a little tricky. Do you trust me?”

Harry opened his mouth to say yes, but paused. Did he trust Hermione? She was keeping things from him, had been since they met back on the sixth it seemed. She had always been there though, worrying about him and doing what she thought was best, even if it might strain their friendship.

He breathed in and out, then matched her gaze. Her smile hadn’t slipped but there was a hint of fear in her eyes; she was scared he would say no.

“I do, Hermione. I trust you.” He might be annoyed with Hermione, might even be angry with her because of the secrets, but that didn’t stop him trusting her.

“I have to knock you out, Harry.”

He blinked and looked down at her hand, she had drawn her wand at some point. He was a little worried, but he wouldn’t back down now. “ _I trust you, Hermione.”_

She stepped in close and raised her wand. The last thing he heard before everything went black was Hermione’s voice softly incanting “ _Stupefy.”_

  **3rd of August, 1995,  No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

Hermione was rather unhappy to discover that Harry was rather a lot heavier than she had expected; he wasn’t even taller than her! A full inch shorter, and yet she was struggling to carry him into the house. It was past midnight, she was bloody tired, and here she was dragging her bafflingly heavy friend up the steps to No. 12’s front door.

She knew it would work; the Fidelius protected a secret, but didn’t truly protect the location. It was impossible to _know_ where a house under the Fidelius was unless the secret keeper informed you, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t get inside it. It just needed the assistance of someone who did know the secret, and preferably not to be conscious at the time.

She’d seen a memory of one of her future self’s experiments with the Fidelius, and the results weren’t pretty. Apparently being dragged kicking and screaming–literally, in several cases–somewhere that to their mind didn’t exist was a truly horrifying experience. Some of the things _she_ had done were truly disturbing. At least she wouldn’t have a chance to get that bad.

Tapping her wand to the door she pushed it open, and brought Harry inside. She had hoped to maybe get him all the way to their–there was a bloody _swamp_ in the hallway. A _swamp._ She had known the twins were good–rape potions aside–but this was truly impressive. It did, however, mean there was zero chance of her getting past it carrying Harry, she’d have to levitate him or wake him up.

Looking up the corridor she could see her duplicate– _Ni,_ she reminded herself–coming towards her.

“Harry, you brought him!” Ni stopped just on the other side of the swamp and looked down at it. “The twins… decided to test _everything_. The whole house is a mess.” She glanced at the edges of the swamp and started picking her way across it towards them.

“I can see that.” Hermione deadpanned, “This is… did they _have_ to block the hall?”

“This is just spillover. They opened it up in front of the kitchen, I honestly don’t understand how it came up the stairs.” Ni glanced at the swamp warily as she edged her way around to Hermione and Harry. “I keep feeling like some thing’s going to jump out of it at me.”

Hermione just shook her head and turned back to Harry. With Ni here she might as well wake–

“Hermione Jane Granger! What do you think you have been up to!” _Molly’s_ bellow echoed throughout the hall as she stomped her way up the stairs. “You have some explaining to do, you are grounded to your room and–Harry?” The mother weasel paused for a moment staring at Harry’s unconscious form, before raising her head to glare fiercely at them as her face turned bright red.  “You! You thoughtless little, you could have gotten–”

“SHUT UP!” Hermione yelled back. “You don’t get to be mad at us because we thought up a plan for Harry to escape the Dursleys if he was attacked! What were you planning on doing, waiting for the Dementors to show up and kiss him in his sleep?!” She turned back to Harry and pointed her wand at him. “ _Rennervate.”_

As Harry’s eyes blinked open she threw a silencing charm at Molly, but one which would let her hear her own screams. It wouldn’t stop her by any means, but at least it would take longer for her to notice. Ni was on Harry and hugging him before she had even finished casting.

“Harry, Harry, you’re okay.” Ni pulled Harry’s head to her chest. “I was _so_ worried. What were you thinking?” She pushed away from him and swatted his arm. “You don’t just send a short note saying you got attacked by Dementors! At least tell me what happened properly! I had no idea what had happened to you and I was so scared!” She huffed at Harry’s bemused expression and pulled Hermione down next to her before leaning in to hug him again. “We can’t let him out of our sight, can we? He just gets into far too much trouble when we’re not around.”

Harry burst out laughing and hugged Ni with one arm, and pulled Hermione in with the other. “Hermione, you’re brilliant.”

“I know,” Ni said with a grin. “but why mention it now?”

Harry looked between them and smiled widely. “Hermione said the exact same thing at King’s Cross.”

Hermione burst into giggles, and after a few moments Ni followed. Their mirth was short lived, however, as the dulcet tones of Molly Weasley called out again.

“Don’t ignore me young lady, you both are in so much trouble! I am well aware you have finished your homework, and since you don’t need them I’ll have your books for this!” She had her hands on her hips and was glaring at them furiously from across the hallway’s swamp. “No more letting you keep that room either; you’ll stay with Ginny where we can keep an eye on you both!”

Dumbledore came up the stairs behind _Molly_ and stared at them over his spectacles. “Perhaps, Molly, we should calm down, Harry is here and safe after all… I am however concerned, Miss Granger, that you appear to have broken the charm I placed on this house.”

Molly blinked and her face flushed furiously red to the tips of her ears. She glanced at Harry briefly, then began to screech again. “How dare you break the Headmaster’s F–” Only to cut off and begin choking as the Fidelius charm protected itself.

_Stupid weasel,_ Hermione grinned at the suddenly coughing Molly. _The Fidelius charm doesn’t like to be talked about in ‘public’._ She drew herself out of Harry’s half-hug and put his other arm around Ni. “I haven’t broken anything, headmaster, as you can clearly see.”

“Indeed.” Dumbledore frowned briefly at Molly’s hunched over form. “Molly, I’m afraid you will just have to wait for it to clear up. I am afraid It would be best if you find somewhere to sit.”

Molly managed a nod and staggered back down the stairs towards the kitchen, coughing roughly as she went. Dumbledore turned back to the three of them. Ni seemed to realise she was embracing Harry publicly and drew away with a blush. Harry’s face started turning red soon after.

Hermione stood up and brushed herself off. “It’s simple. The spell doesn’t stop people entering, just knowing where to enter. I stunned Harry so that he was unconscious and dragged him inside. He didn’t know he was entering, or where he is now, but is still inside the house.” She glanced at Harry who was now rubbing his head with both hands. “It is probably giving him a headache thinking about where we are, so if you would be so kind, Headmaster.”

Dumbledore ran a hand through his beard and hummed. “Well, that is an interesting flaw… the charm is not well studied. Fascinating.” He shook his head. “Regardless, Miss Granger, this was quite the  reckless act. I worry that the three of you may have cost an innocent his life due to your poor decisions and planning.”

Harry and Ni had risen to their feet, but Dumbledore didn’t seem to be paying any attention to her or Ni now, only Harry. Though he did not look at Harry directly. “Dudley Dursley is dead. He was kissed by a Dementor three hours ago.”

Hermione took in a sharp breath; this hadn’t happened originally, Dudley had lived and even been on friendly terms with Harry after the war… he–he shouldn’t have died. She turned to look at Harry and Ni; Harry’s eyes were wide with surprise, and Hermione could recognise the shame and guilt he was feeling. Ni grabbed his hand, and Hermione relaxed. She would get him through this; she had to.

It wasn’t his fault, no matter the guilt complex the bumblebee bastard was trying to force onto him. Dudley had likely been kissed before Harry had even left Privet Drive; _it wasn’t his fault._

“As a result, Petunia and Vernon Dursley have refused any  possibility of you returning to their home. The protections created by your mother will fade and cease to be by the end of the year.” Dumbledore took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It is late, and we are not properly prepared for your arrival. Unless you had made preparations, Miss Granger?”

“Yes, I did. There’s a camp bed in our bedroom he can use for the night if there’s nothing else available.” Ni answered quickly. She must have worked on that while Hermione was gone, as they hadn’t done any such preparation beforehand.

“Very well; I’m sure there will be somewhere more suitable by morning. I shall trust there will be no impropriety on this one eve.” Dumbledore waved them off, and began to retreat down the stairs.

“Headmaster?” Ni called, “Harry needs to know…”

He paused on the steps, but didn’t turn around. “Ah, yes. _The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._ Welcome, Harry, to the house.” He continued down the stairs and vanished from sight.

“Come on, Harry, let's get to bed.” Ni yawned. “It’s been a long day.”

They skirted past the swamp and led Harry up to the master bedroom. Harry remained eerily subdued along the way, not speaking a single word despite the questions Hermione was certain he must have. When they reached their room, they opened the door to find Sirius Black was waiting for them. 

“It’s good to see you’re okay, Harry.” He said, before directing his gaze to Hermione and Ni. ”Well, girls, I do believe it's time for that explanation you’ve been putting off.” 

Hermione sighed. It was getting to be an extremely long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go, the piece of information I was so carefully avoiding for the last ten chapters. Hermione (Ni) even mentioned Harry’s underage magic use, and that she didn’t know why he had done it. They don’t have perfect information, they don’t know everything, and not all their opinions of other people are correct.
> 
> They only have imperfect, and biased, second-hand information about the future. That matters.


	12. Ch. XII Hermione Gives An Explanation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of people have been eager to see the explanation; however, we’ve had that already. It was chapter two. I could do it again, but it’d be a lot of rehashing. There’ll be a fair bit of skimming and focusing on the emotional reactions rather than the details of the explanation as a result.
> 
> Many thanks to Tyrannic_Puppy for providing comments and beta work on this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: Does anyone ever properly question Hogwarts’ safety standards after the possessed teacher, three-headed dog, memory thief teacher, giant snake, werewolf teacher, soul-sucking demons, death-tournament, and escaped convict teacher? If not, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.

**3rd of August, 1995,  No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

“It’s late, Sirius, and it has been a really, _really,_ long day.” It had been far too long. She was sleepy, Ni’s eyes were drooping, and Harry himself didn’t seem all that awake–he probably hadn’t eaten anything since the Dementors. “Kreacher, tea and Chocolate, please, if there is any. The grandson of Lady Dorea is here.”

Kreacher popped in silently, glancing over them with a scowl. “I hear, Mudblood, I will bring refreshments for the half-blood… heir.” He bared his teeth and hissed quietly. “His companions too, for the House of Black is nothing if not _polite to_ guests, even if they be mudbloods.” He snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Harry looked at her with confusion written on his face. “What about spew, Hermione?”

Hermione shrugged. “Did she tell you about the contract we found?” Harry nodded, and she smiled at him. “It’s a long-term goal now, we can’t do anything without more research–” Sirius coughed loudly, and Hermione sighed. “–and it isn’t important right now. We have a deal with Kreacher, we help him avenge Regulus Black, he stops… he helps us with things in the house.”

Harry wasn’t ready to hear about the potions, not yet. He was still too close with the Weasleys; if they told him everything at once there was little doubt that he would dig his heels in and refuse to believe them. One step at a time, and _not_ when she was too tired to keep her emotions in check. She had already made a mess with their interactions on the way to the house; it was just _too_ _good_ to see him safe and smiling.

Hermione turned and sealed the door shut with as many privacy spells as she could manage, and Ni provided a few more. She had obviously been researching more charms since the near-miss with Dumbledore and the mirror a few days ago. For some reason, however, Ni was avoiding looking at Harry now. She had hugged him as soon as he had arrived, so Hermione thought she had decided to try to be as close to him as she could–but she had…

Ni had tensed as soon as Sirius had demanded the explanation. Ni was afraid Harry was going to be angry with her because she had lied; that was _not_ what she would let happen. Maybe he needed to vent a little, but Harry needed Ni, and she needed Harry to be safe. Ni could manage that while she dealt with the rest of the Horcruxes and prepared for the endgame. Whatever the endgame turned out to be, in this mess of a time-line.

“We should sit.” She met Sirius’ eyes, which were trying to bore a hole into her skull. “And yes, Sirius, I’ll tell you what happened with Regulus.”

A tray with four cups of tea and a plate of Chocolate Frogs landed on the bed. “Tea and chocolates. Kreacher even brings drink for Mutt-Dog Master.” He sneered at Sirius before popping away.

Sirius glared at the spot where Kreacher had vanished for a moment, before moving to embrace Harry. “Damn right you’ll tell me about Regulus, but I can wait on that. Harry first, that’s what you said, and I agree.” He ruffled Harry’s hair and sighed as Harry tentatively returned his embrace. “Bloody glad you’re okay, Harry. I knew you wouldn’t get done in by a couple of Dementors, but I swear I could kill Fletcher for bailing on you over some ruddy cauldrons.” He let go and brought Harry over to the desk to sit.

“He what–” Ni blurted out, “–Wait, no. Not important, other stuff first.” She grabbed her cup of tea and sat on the edge of their bed. “Harry I–we need to… apologise. We lied, a little, some of the things you learned this summer… they’re not true.” Ni stared at the floor and fidgeted. “We–”

“ _I_ , Harry,” Hermione interrupted, “time-travelled. A lot more than I said I did. There are some details there that you’re missing, but I’ll get to that. I arrived on the 21st, but kidnapped Ni–Hermione–from King’s Cross the day we got back and took her with me to keep her safe. I had to do that to… handle the issue of there being two of us around, it wasn’t planned. My first week was somewhat of a… scramble to re-plan everything.”

Harry’s gaze moved between them in confusion briefly, before settling on Hermione’s neckline–where her broken time-turner’s chain disappeared under her shirt

. She gave him a glare and crossed her arms; even if the time-turner was there he shouldn’t be staring.

Sirius hummed. “I figured that was it. Second time you’ve gone time-travelling to save someone, but from what this time? You can’t be much older than you look, there aren’t any glamours on you. We checked, Thoroughly.”

“Have you heard of the Regression Ritual, Sirius?” He nodded, but Hermione shook her head. “No, doesn’t matter. We need to explain it to Harry anyway.” She detailed the Ritual for them both, going over her thirteen-year de-aging, the loss of memories, the way she regained memories through the Pensieve and how far back she had come.

“Why? Why did you come back? Why… why didn’t you save Dudley?” Harry wrung his hands and glanced between them, his face torn up with guilt. He turned and cast his gaze down at the floor. “I… I never liked him, but he’s still my cousin. I don’t–I didn’t _hate_ him. I never wanted him dead.”

Hermione just looked down guiltily. It wasn’t her fault, she hadn’t known, but how empty would that sound? Blaming her lack of knowledge on her future self who decided to leave things out, to manipulate herself into decisions she would never had made on her own.

It was Ni who came to her rescue. “She didn’t know, Harry. The future her–the future _us_ , she… she was insane, broken. She watched you die and worse besides. I’ve–I’ve had _visions_ of what Mia’s seen, Harry. That future… It wasn’t her. She wanted you safe and alive, and…” 

Ni stumbled, looking to Hermione for reassurance. She grabbed Ni’s hand and smiled gently; Ni was right, she shouldn’t blame herself. She didn’t know–would Dudley have been saved if Harry wasn’t there at all? How many knock-on effects would moving to protect Harry have caused? It wasn’t her fault, and nor was it Harry’s. Dumbledore said Dudley died three hours before they arrived. The train ride wasn’t even close to that long.

Dudley had to have been kissed before Harry left Privet Drive for the train station, probably even before he had encountered the Dementors himself. _It wasn’t his fault._

“… and she wasn’t above manipulating herself–that is, Mia and I–or even you to manage that. When we learned you had been attacked by Dementors both of us were scared. We knew you were going to break the Regulations for Underage Sorcery this summer, but not with what spell or _why._ We also know Dumbledore had you cleared of your charges–not that we’re trusting to _that_ , we’ve been doing research and have a plan.” She huffed. “Dumbledore’s defense involved you getting there late, not having a proper legal aid, blustering, and appealing to the Wizengamot’s sense of _decency_.”

Sirius started chuckling. It was fairly obvious what he thought of the Wizengamot’s sense of _decency._ After all, he had experienced it first-hand fourteen years ago.

Ni looked at Harry, and shrunk down a little, clinging closer to Hermione. “Can you… do you believe me? I’m–we’ve told you lies Harry, but we’re telling the truth now, all of it. The glasses your wearing–they look good, by the way–” Ni changed her grip on Hermione’s hand and started squeezing it painfully. Hermione couldn’t help but wince. “–they stop vision-based attacks, which Legilimency is. Sirius found them, they’ll keep you safe from passive Legilimency; just don’t let Snape or the Headmaster draw their wands on you.”

Harry nodded slowly, barely reacting at all to anything Ni had said. Hermione was worried; he wasn’t dealing well with what he was being told. He should be asking questions, making a joke, or at least expressing _something._

“As interesting as how attractive you think my Godson is with his shiny new glasses, Hermione, I would appreciate it if you got around to telling us more about Voldemort.”

“Tom Riddle.” Hermione immediately replied. She put her hand on Ni’s leg, silently asking Ni to let her say the next part. Ni nodded, and Hermione couldn’t help but notice her cheeks were tinged with a blush after Sirius’ reprimand. “As I’ve already told Sirius, even if he didn’t know much else, Tom Riddle has made se… six Horcruxes. The first one was destroyed in the Chamber of Secrets, if you remember, Harry.” 

Hermione decided at the last moment that telling Sirius Harry was a Horcrux would cause more problems than it solved. It would be cleaner to tell Harry in private and resolve that without involving Sirius. He would insist on involving himself if he knew, and that would complicate the ritual. Really, he didn’t need to know. And it was Harry’s private business.

He furrowed his brow for a moment, then his eyes widened. “The Diary? There are six of _those?!”_

“Not exactly,” Hermione went on to list the five Horcruxes that weren’t Harry and their locations, explaining what they did and how they worked. She had a basic plan for getting each of them, although retrieving the Goblet from Gringotts would largely be Sirius’ job, unless they chose to rob the bank in this time-line as well. Something Sirius immediately vetoed as a good idea; he would find a way to claim the goblet from Bellatrix.

Harry grew ever more disgusted as she explained. Although he did laugh a little at the discovery of there truly being a curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts, it was hollow and only made her more worried.

She was just finishing explaining that she had used her position as Potter Regent to assemble a team to retrieve the Peverell Ring Horcrux when Harry jumped to his feet.

“You?! You’re my regent? I thought–I thought someone related to my _Dad_ was alive!” Harry trembled, his fists were clenched tightly, and his eyes burned. “I–” Harry glared at them, his voice shaky with anger.

“Harry, we didn’t want to–” Ni pleaded.

“SHUT UP!”

Ni winced at Harry’s yell and leaned into Hermione’s side, shaking her head back and forth, trying to deny his accusations. She burrowed into Hermione’s jumper, and Hermione wrapped one arm around her drawing her closer, even as she turned a steely-eyed glare onto Harry.

It wasn’t fair. What he was saying wasn’t fair but interrupting him wouldn’t help. Not unless she hurt him enough to make him stop, but she didn’t want to do that. It would hurt Ni too. Maybe he would stop on his own, but that was a vain hope. She knew this was a month of frustration coming to a boil. He didn’t feel trusted, even if he knew why he hadn’t been told before.

“How can I believe you didn’t let Dudley die just because it was convenient?” 

“How can you say that–I would never let Dementors get close to you! I know what they make you see!”

“And that makes it better? You knowing my secrets without me ever telling you?!” He snarled, stepping towards them intimidatingly. ”What about Cedric–if you really came back why couldn’t you save him?!”

Sirius tried to hush Harry, told him to calm down, but Harry just let out an inarticulate scream of rage and ordered Sirius to stay out of it. Sirius stepped away, sat down, and leaned back in his chair quietly in response. Hermione grit her teeth as it became clear he was going to let this run its course, no matter the abuse Harry threw at them.

“Your parents aren’t dead, are they? You let me believe you were orphaned like me, made me _sympathise,_ made me think I had actual Family who had finally come to claim me–but it was all just a lie. You _lied to me._ I trusted you, I thought–!

When Ni started crying into her side, hiding her face from him, it was the final straw. Hermione hit him with a silencing charm and petrified him.

She took a deep breath and began talking. “None of us had anything to do with Dudley’s death.” _Cedric was my fault. I should have done something._ _“_ You drove the Dementors away, didn’t you? Dudley was almost certainly kissed _before_ you even knew they were there. And my parents? I will _never_ be able to forget watching them die; as much as I wish I didn’t have to lie to you, I would do that and _more_ to keep my parents safe.” She met his eyes and glared, her face twisted as she snarled at him. “Don’t act as if you wouldn’t do the exact same thing.”

She never wanted to have to tell this story, and she had truly hoped Ni would never be so unlucky to see what she had seen. To even hear enough details to have to _imagine_ what happened was going to be bad enough. “The Hermione of the original timeline came back from an early morning walk to see my mother screaming in agony on our kitchen floor. The Death Eaters were using Muggle Repellent charms, not silencing charms, or any other way to hide, so she could hear _everything_. They weren’t even trying to be quiet. One of them suggested _raping_ Mum, but they decided that it would be unclean to sully themselves with a _muggle.”_ Mia spat out her words as she glared at Harry, and although he couldn’t move the anger burning in his eyes began to dim.

“When my mother finally stopped screaming, she was drooling onto the floor, her eyes empty and not moving a muscle. They laughed. She was hiding behind a tree in the back garden, watching as they tortured my mother, and they laughed. They complained that _I_ was _missing_ , and then _Snape_ took off his mask and said I must have already been collected by the Order. He was _sad_ that he didn’t get a chance to put the ‘ _Know-it-all Mudblood in her place, on the floor with the rest of the filth.’_ He then killed my father by disembowelling him. He had been forced to watch as they tortured my mother, only to die in excruciating agony.”

The blood had run out of Harry’s face, turning it ashen white as his eyes danced wildly with guilt. She hated that she was hurting him, but he needed to understand. There was a well of guilt building in her chest that she was doing this to manipulate him, that she was just like Dumbledore, but she was so angry she didn’t care. He had no right to make Ni cry. It was her fault, not Ni’s.

“I watched that memory _twice._ The first time because I didn’t know what it was, the second months later because I didn’t believe _Snivellus_ could _possibly_ have done that. Not one of our teachers, not a Professor, but he did. When I was brought here I told Dumbledore, and he… he told her that it was for the _Greater Good_ , that sacrifices had to be made to ensure no one questioned Snape’s cover as a spy.”

Hermione pushed Ni off her, despite Ni’s attempts to hold on, and stood up. She stood her full inch over Harry and stared down at him. “My parents aren’t dead, no, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what it feels like to lose them. I will never be able to forget the look on my dad’s face when Mum finally stopped screaming. He was relieved for a moment, before it sunk in _why_ she had stopped. My reward for enduring that? I got fed potions to make me forget them, compulsions to never speak of Snape’s involvement, and then more potions to make me–” Hermione shook her head violently, her hair fizzing as her magic responded to her emotions. “–make _Her–s_ he isn’t me and I won’t ever be _her_ – _trust Snape_ and _respect_ him no matter what he did.” She let out a dark laugh. “That only faded after Dumbledore died; when Snape _killed him._ ”

“And yet, somehow, that wasn’t even the worst of what happened to her.” Hermione turned to Sirius, fixing him in place with a glare. “I think we’re done for the night. The camp bed is yours, Harry.” She dispelled the charms she had hit him with and turned around. She pulled Ni closer and cradled Ni in her arms, wiping away the tears spilling from Ni’s eyes. “Sorry, Ni, I never wanted you to have to hear that…” As Ni sobbed something twisted in her chest and it _hurt._ “it’s okay, Ni, they’re alive and safe. You’ll get to see them again. I promise.”

Sirius stood up and looked down at them both. He was carefully holding his hands still at his sides, tightly clenched into fists. “Done. yes. After that I would agree…” His voice was cold and ominous, all the more threatening for how calm he seemed. He turned to Harry who hadn’t moved even though the petrification spell had been lifted and frowned. He leaned down and whispered something in Harry’s ear, but she didn’t hear it. Harry merely nodded and dropped his gaze to the floor, his shoulders slumped.

Sirius walked out of the room quietly, not saying another word, as Hermione pulled Ni as close as she could and tried to comfort her. She did her best to ignore Harry, but she didn’t do a good job of it. He was standing at the side of the bed, head downcast and flinching at each and every sob from Ni, each time she murmured apologies to him, begged him not to hate her, Hermione couldn’t help but turn to him and glare. It only lasted a few moments before she returned her attention where it was needed most, but it kept happening.

She watched as he kneeled beside the bed, head downcast. She refused to say anything, and they remained like that for several minutes, until Ni finally stopped sobbing and sat up.

“Hermione, I–sorry, I didn’t have any–”

“Harry, I’m sorry–we should never have lied to you–”

They both tried to speak at the same time, only to interrupt one another. Hermione couldn’t help but snort in amusement as they stumbled over their apologies. 

“No!” Harry yelled; all three of them winced and he shrunk down and turned away from them. “No, no–you don’t need to apologise. I know why you didn’t tell me; I’m being _stupid._ I’m–how can you _describe_ that without… I watched my Mum die, and I barely knew her. It _still_ hurts.” He let out a ragged breath. “I’m sorry. I–I understand if you hate me–”

“No, Harry, its–!” Ni called out, but Hermione just watched impassively. She couldn’t hate him, but she could be angry with him. His words had hurt _so much._

“–but I’m sorry. I said I trusted you earlier, and I do. I got angry and… I let myself be angry. It was easier to be upset than try to understand. I can find a couch to sleep on, or something. You don’t need me here, I’ll just–”

Ni lunged forward and pulled Harry into a hug. “This is what makes you different from Ron, Harry. You _apologised.”_ Hermione could see new tears glistening in her eyes, and Ni’s voice sounded hoarse from her crying, but there was a tinge of happiness too it. “Sirius might have told you to, but you did. You waited and thought it out. You explained why and apologised. I’m sorry for lying, Harry. I never wanted to.” She relaxed and leaned into him as he wrapped his arms around her. Her breathing steadied slowly, and her eyes fluttered closed.

“She really didn’t. I had to make her promise.” Hermione sighed and reached out, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It’s not just your fault; you feel Riddle’s anger too; I didn’t want Sirius to hear, but… your scar, Harry. You can guess what it is.”

His eyes widened in shock and he reached up to touch his scar. “You mean…”

“We can get it out as soon as you’re ready. It will hurt, but it will be gone forever.”

“Is there–”

Hermione put a finger over his lips; Ni had fallen asleep. “Not tonight, we’ll talk more tomorrow. It’s okay to be mad, Harry. Just… remember we’re your friends. It hurts to hear you say things like that.” She snapped her wand out of her sleeve and gently levitated Ni back onto the bed and settled her under the covers.

“I really am sorry, Hermione.” He whispered, “You didn’t deserve that.”

She turned to look at him one last time before getting into bed. “Some of it I do, Harry. I could have saved Cedric, I just didn’t think of him when I had to change my plans.” She turned back and tucked Ni in. “But none of it is her fault. Don’t blame her for my mistakes.”

Hermione nestled herself under the covers with Ni and transfigured their clothes to more appropriate sleepwear before hugging her counterpart tightly. She didn’t know how long Harry spent kneeling beside the bed regretting what he had said; she was lulled into sleep by the sound of Ni’s breathing far too swiftly for that.

–oOoOo–

Hermione woke shivering from a nightmare with tears streaming down her face. She wasn’t crying out, nor flailing, just shivering uncontrollably. It had been horrible; Harry comparing her to a Firebolt and saying she was less important than a broomstick, Ron making Harry choose between them and Harry choosing him, Harry coming back from the third task–the graveyard–with Cedric’s body and telling her it was her fault he was dead, Harry ordering her to leave the tent to follow Ron so he could fight a war on his own…

She wriggled out of Mia’s comforting arms and crawled to the edge of the bed to look at Harry. He was lying there asleep. Not peacefully, he had a deep frown on his face, and he was murmuring in his sleep. She reached out and caressed his cheek, reassuring herself he was still there, and brushed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. She blushed as she noticed what she was doing. “I think you need a haircut, Harry.”

As Hermione was pulling her hand away Harry reached up and clasped it, his eyes opening and blinking at her blearily. “’ermione?” As he held her hand to his cheek her blush only deepened, but after a few moments he released it with a mumbled “Glasses…” and started patting around his bed to find them. He eventually did find his glasses at put them on.

She hadn’t retreated from the edge of the bed and had remained watching his half-asleep fumbling with only her head peeking out from under the covers.

“… Hermione?” Harry said after a few moments examining her face.

“You can use our nicknames, Harry, if makes it easier.”

“Huh? No… I mean, I’ll use them if you want me to… Ni.” He sat up and looked at her carefully. “I’m sorry, Ni.” He reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently. A playful smile tugged at his lips and he broke out into a grin. “Would you… would you like me to bring you a Shrubbery, oh dear Knight Hermio _ni_?”

There was a snort of amusement from Mia behind her as she rolled her eyes. She had felt her own smile begin to grow, but she kept it suppressed as best she could. “Oh, Harry, that was _awful._ ” She reached out and brushed another stray lock out from behind his glasses. “You really do need a haircut, Harry. Unless you want to grow it long. It looks a little awkward at the moment.”

“Hermione? I’m sorry. Really.” His smile fell away suddenly. “I–I need to know what I can do apologise properly. I shouldn’t have yelled. I shouldn’t have gotten angry.” He sighed and dropped his head. “Not with you.”

Hermione pulled herself out of her bed, sat beside him on the camp bed, and hugged him. “I can’t lose you, Harry. I just _can’t._ ” She still felt a little hurt from his words, but the idea of losing Harry because he walked away from her over something she did hurt far more. The nightmare had brought home just how lonely she had been before Hogwarts–before that fateful Halloween.

She would never have stayed in Hogwarts if she hadn’t become friends with Harry. Without him, Ron would have driven her away even if they had become friends without Harry. He might have had his good moments, but he so often acted like the rest of her childhood bullies it was remarkable she hadn’t noticed it before. But then, she had been blinkered by the prospect of finally having friends, and she always knew that Ron was Harry’s friend first, so she had to accept his behaviour.

With that thought she tightened her grip and dug up the same bravery she had used back at King’s Cross over a month prior and kissed him on the cheek. There would be no running away from him this time, no matter how brightly her cheeks were burning.

Attempting to remain composed she let go and gave back a little breathing room to her best friend. “Alright, I know what I want you to do.” She smiled at him through her blush and forced herself to meet his–slightly shocked–gaze. “I want to see _all_ of your homework done, and for you to revise exactly why what you did wasn’t illegal. I’ll give you the right chapters in the right books–but show me your intelligence, Harry. I know you hide it.”

As soon as he nodded, she stood up and looked down at herself; she didn’t remember changing into her nightclothes. She glanced at Mia and gave her an inquisitive look.

“Transfigured. You fell asleep on us last night, Ni.” Mia answered.

“Oh. Well, I should change anyway.” As Harry suddenly scrambled upright with a yelp Hermione turned and rolled her eyes at him. “After a shower, and in the bathroom; not in front of you, Harry.” She huffed and grinned at him. “You’re such a _boy_ , honestly.”

After they had all showered and dressed for the day, Mia left and quickly returned with Sirius, who looked bedraggled and sleep deprived. It was still only seven am and the Weasleys were still sleeping. They had decided to explain a little more, and at least prove that Mrs Weasley had been trying to potion them. Even if she had stopped now, since Kreacher’s swapping of she seemed to have noticed they weren’t being affected in any way.

It could end badly, but Hermione truly hoped it wouldn’t end with another fight. If Harry didn’t believe them immediately that was fine. She hadn’t truly believed Mia until she had seen direct evidence herself, and that had taken more than a week. They did have Kreacher at least; Sirius could order him to tell the truth about the potions, and he likely wouldn’t even mind the chance to malign the Weasleys. At this point it was clear he disliked them far more than he disliked her or Mia. Not that he _liked_ her either, if he did, he might finally stop calling her Mudblood. She had become rather numb to that particular insult over the last few weeks.

As they all sat down again Mia pulled four potions out of their bag. “I think it is reasonable to have these on hand in case things get, um, emotional again.” Mia glanced between Hermione and Harry and sighed. “It would be better if we didn’t, they impair judgement and memory somewhat, but it would be nice to… not repeat last night.”

Sirius nodded. “Agreed. Harry, did you?”

Hermione answered for him. “He did. It isn’t entirely settled, but we’re friends still. We’re not fighting.” She smiled at Harry, trying to be reassuring. As he tentatively smiled back her stomach twisted into a knot. It had been so much easier while she was still drowsy, now she was getting embarrassed just looking at him.

Sirius’ grin was far wider than seemed appropriate as he pulled Harry into a one-armed hug. It didn’t last long, but Harry grumbled to himself even after he was released. “Well, unless you think something else is more important, I would like to hear why you’ve been so antagonistic with Molly and Ronald. I can’t say I’m appreciating Molly much myself, butting in as she does, but there’s more to it than just her being overbearing, isn’t there?”

Mia let out drawn out sigh. “There is. _Molly_ has this grand belief that Harry is destined to marry Ginny, and… after my parents’ death in the previous time-line took to a request from Dumbledore with great enthusiasm.” She shook her head, face filled with disgust. “From what my older self managed to learn, Dumbledore had asked to keep her from revealing Snape’s Death Eater activities, and potion me to stop me grieving my parents. Since if I got too… upset it would affect Harry, who Dumbledore is trying to keep control over.”

“He is?” Harry asked curiously.

Hermione snorted. It was painfully obvious in hindsight, and yet somehow none of them had noticed before. She drifted off a little as Mia quickly went through the events of the last four years, pointing out some of the Headmaster’s strange behaviours, and how he kept setting Harry up. Sirius’ face was grim throughout, but Harry kept flickering from surprise, to annoyance, occasionally disbelief, and back again.

Sirius leaned forward and growled. “What does he think he’s doing? I know Voldemort–”

“Riddle.” Mia interrupted.

“–is interested in Harry, but _why?_ Why are they both so fixated on him?”

“There’s a prophecy. That’s why Dumbledore is posting guards on the Department of Mysteries. The prophecy is between Harry and Riddle. Harry has a power Riddle knows not and is capable of vanquishing him. There’s more to it, but divination is a mess to interpret. I’ll write down the exact wording for you later, Sirius.”

Sirius frowned, but nodded. Harry, however, had his face drawn tight with anger.

“That’s why he attacked my parents, isn’t it? He killed them because of a stupid _prophecy?_ ”

Mia silently nodded, and Hermione dared not look at him directly. Harry’s fury was palpable; he clenched his fists and growled, but after a few moments he reached for one of the potions and drank it, grimacing at the taste. “That’s… awful. Very, very awful.” He muttered.

“You’ll probably appreciate it for what we tell you next.” Mia grabbed Hermione’s hand and held it tightly. This was the point where Harry might start to disbelieve them. “ _Molly_ twisted Dumbledore’s orders to her own agenda. She potioned me… the Hermione of the previous time-line and made her…” Mia paused, searching for the words. “Forget the fact that she… that I…” She turned to Hermione, and a mouthed a silent apology, before turning back to Harry. “That she was falling in love with you, Harry, and instead made her slowly become attracted to… _Ron_. I don’t know if he was aware, or involved, but that doesn’t matter, because in the end she ended up… _married_ to him.”

Mia let out a bitter laugh, ignoring Harry’s wide eyes and confused expression. “ _Marriage_ is not the right word. I imagine that you, Sirius, know about bonding and offering rituals? Well, _Molly_ tricked her into one, and by the end of this year the first stage had been completed. After Riddle’s defeat, when the final stage _was_ completed, _Ronald_ made his first absolute order to her; to stop associating with you, Harry, and tell you it was her own choice.”

Hermione leaned let go of Mia’s hand and leaned in closer, giving her a hug. They were both crying, but Mia was choking back sobs as she spoke.

“The last time she spoke to you was on her nineteenth birthday, when you gave her this–” She pulled the time-turner out from under her jumper. “–and she told you she could never speak to you again, or her parents would disown her. Her _dead_ parents, that she had been ordered to pretend were alive.” She sobbed and started coughing, trying to clear her throat. “She–she never got to say anything more to you until you were dead in her arms. She–”

Harry interrupted Mia by getting up and stepping forward to envelop her in a hug. “Okay, Hermione. You’ve said enough. I don’t understand, but I… you don’t have to say anymore.” He sighed. “I don’t understand. The Weasleys–they talk about potions like they’re romantic? A princess getting her prince? I guess it wouldn’t be nice to be the prince, but didn’t you laugh at Mrs Weasley’s story about potioning Arthur a couple of years ago?”

Mia shook her head quietly and latched onto Harry, crying into him. Hermione let go and slipped away a little, catching Harry’s eye. He was calm only because of the potion, and as horrible as it was, she was glad for it.

“Love potions are often used in arranged marriages, like Molly and Arthur’s, it prevents… disputes from breaking out until they’ve settled. Afterwards they tend to have a better understanding of one another, or, at worst, they take lesser doses to keep the marriage from collapsing.” Sirius shook his head. “I don’t like it, but then I don’t like the idea of an arranged marriage. Odd for my family, but that’s James’ and Lily's influence. Bonding rituals, however… those require consent, Hermione. They’re meant to be some of the most precious forms of love imaginable.”

Mia let out a choking laugh, before going back to crying. Hermione sighed and answered for her. “Not if someone has a life debt, Sirius. Those can provide false consent, even… even in rituals like that.” Hermione looked at Mia and reached out to rub her back. “It wasn’t a ritual which required mutualism, either. It was one of complete and total subservience.

“There are also serious, horrible, side effects from long term potion use. Love potions, even the milder ones, have an impact on the morality of children conceived under the influence–they find it harder to form attachments to other people. Dumbledore found out that is what happened to Riddle, he was conceived under a Love Potion.” Hermione sighed. “It doesn’t excuse what he did, but it helps to explain it.”

Mia pulled away from Harry and reached for her own Calming Draught with a sniffle. She swallowed it greedily and, after a few moments, her breathing calmed and she visibly relaxed.

“Then how could he condone it happening to you? To anyone?” Harry’s voice was still unnaturally calm, and it was honestly more than a little creepy.

“His portrait said he didn’t condone it, that he didn’t know.” Mia said quietly, “Whether we can believe that or not, I don’t know. He’s not really our enemy, but he’s not our friend either. He’ll stop at nothing to defeat Riddle, even if it means sacrificing all of us to do it.”

“I don’t want to stay in the magical world after we’re done.” Hermione blurted out, “Because of all the horrible things people can do, and the way they treat us, I mean. The way they treat you too, Harry. I–I said it to Mia and she suggested we do our Muggle studies, our GCSEs and such, so after we leave Hogwarts we could… go to University. Just leave.” She looked down at the floor, unwilling to see the inevitable rejection written on Harry’s face. “I don’t want to leave you–I’m not sure if I could, but… I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable in the magical world again.”

A hand grabbed hers and another tilted her head up. She was made to look Harry in the eye as he responded. “Do you think it would be better Hermione?”

She nodded.

“I’m not sure, I mean–they worship me one day over fame I don’t want, the next I’m a cheater and a liar? I can’t say I like that. But _magic._ Flying. I never want to give those up.”

“You wouldn’t have to.” Sirius said, “Finish Hogwarts and you can use magic all you like, so long as you don’t break the statute of secrecy and draw attention to yourself. You would have to find, or own, somewhere secluded and obscured enough to fly, but you wouldn’t have to give it up.” He stood and brushed himself off. “I can’t say I disagree with the idea, either. I doubt the ministry will ever clear my name, and in the muggle world at least I can disguise myself enough to stay hidden. Too risky in the magical.

“Regardless of all that, I need to ask, have they been trying to potion the two of you while you have been here?”

Hermione and Mia both nodded. “Kreacher’s been swapping the food around and stopping her, but I think Mrs Weasley figured out what he was doing, so hasn’t potioned anything in a while.”

Sirius snorted and grinned. “Oh, so that’s why I found her spying on her son with a blush a week back. I thought it was just a Prewett thing. Kreacher!”

Kreacher appeared in the room suddenly, snarling and growling. He had a dirty rag in one hand and a silver chalice in the other; it wasn’t clear if his efforts at polishing the chalice were making it shinier or grimier. “What does Bad Mutt Master want?” He grumbled.

“Has Molly Weasley been adding any form of love, attraction, or other mind affecting potions into the meals of anyone in the house, and if so, who?”

“Blood-Traitor Queen be adding potions to food, yes. Stupid brood-bitch barely notice when Kreacher feed her slop to her and laugh as scared stupid Weasel-boy get stupider.” Kreacher grinned and trailed off into a slew of insults aimed at each of the Weasleys in the house, each more vile than the last.

“Who, Kreacher, who was she trying to potion?” Sirius spat out through gritted teeth.

“Potions to make Mudblood Girls not sad and like stupid Weasel-boy and forget Half-blood Heir. Potions to make Bad Mutt Master stupid _er_ and more gullible.” Kreacher bared his teeth and snarled. “Kreacher hate Bad Mutt Master. Kreacher _despise_ killer of Good Master Regulus. Be Black, Mutt Master, _Take Revenge._ ”

Kreacher vanished with a pop before anyone could say another word.

“I think, Hermione, it is time you tell me what happened to Regulus.” Sirius said with an icy calm.

Explaining to Sirius the story behind Regulus’ betrayal of Tom Riddle didn’t take long, but it did reduce Sirius to tears. He ended up calling Kreacher back once he was done and ordering him to turn Regulus’ room into a memorial for his brother. It might have been the first time ever that Kreacher obeyed an order from Sirius with neither complaint nor insult.

–oOoOo–

“Well, Ron, what do you have to say?” Harry glared at his friend. Ron had pulled him aside after breakfast–an incredibly _annoying_ breakfast where Mrs Weasley spent the whole meal fussing over him and how _thin_ he was. In light of Hermione’s accusations against her, it put it all in a different light. Harry didn’t really think Ron was capable of being part of such a thing, but if it happened and he benefitted as a result… He didn’t want to think what Ron might do then.

Then he had also been keenly aware that he had been made to sit next to Ginny, and of the way she constantly tried to get his attention. She was Ron’s little sister, practically _his_ little sister! It was weird. It was _wrong_. Fred and George would kill him by ‘accident’ if he did anything.

Besides, Hermione was… even if there were two of them… it was complicated. He needed advice, he couldn’t go to Hermione, for obvious reasons… Sirius? No, he wouldn’t take it seriously. Tonks, maybe; if she was around. She was closer to his age anyway. Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts as Ron finally started to talk.

“Why’re you acting so friendly with Hermione, Harry? They almost got you killed!”

“ _They_ almost got me killed? If I’d had the bloody mirror I would’ve been at the house, behind Dumbledore’s supposed protections! You’re the one who let slip about it and got it confiscated!” Harry’s hand twitched, he was very tempted to reach for his wand. Sirius had told him it was fine to use magic in the house, so long as it was _appropriate._ “So, if anyone nearly got me killed, it was you!”

“You’re kidding right?” Ron spat, glaring back at Harry. “ _She_ went to McGonagall over your Firebolt, she went to the ball with _Krum_ , she always bloody talks to people about our business! We’re best mates! I wouldn’t mess up and get you hurt. She has!”

Harry snorted. Ron was being ridiculous, Hermione had been right about the Firebolt, and she hadn’t told Krum anything about their adventures. He’d heard Ron bragging to Neville about how they got past Fluffy and about ‘The Best Played Chess Match’ to everyone he could. Hermione barely talked to anyone other than the two of them, and occasionally Neville. She certainly didn’t talk to her dorm mates, or else everyone in the castle would know all the details about everything.

She hadn’t betrayed him. She trusted him, and sometimes he didn’t really deserve that trust. Like last night, he nearly blew it completely last night. Ron, however… “So you didn’t bugger off when my name came out for the Tournament then, did you? You were beside me the whole time helping me prepare? You didn’t call me a _dirty cheating liar_?” Harry snarled at Ron. “I know you talk to Dean, Seamus, and Neville, Ron. I know you _brag_. You don’t even tell the truth, or else they’d know you got knocked out in your precious little chess match. That you didn’t even see the final room.”

Everything from Ron’s cheeks to the tips of his ears turned bright red. “I apologised for calling you that!”

“So did she, only it didn’t take her a bloody month and me nearly dying to do it! She forgave me when she was right, and I treated her terribly! Because _you_ wanted me to!” Harry winced inwardly, he’d done it because he had believed Ron over her back then. A mistake, in hindsight. There probably was a saying about that. If there was, Hermione would know it. “And you didn’t even apologise! _I_ _let you off without one!_ ”

Before Ron could muster a response, Harry turned and marched out of Ron’s room. Mrs Weasley’s idea of him rooming with his former friend wouldn’t work, not now. “It’s not like you sent me any real letters either, Hermione did. She actually _cared._ You had your second chance, Ron, and you’ve blown it.” He slammed the door shut, hurried into the bedroom Sirius had picked out for him that morning, and slumped against the door.

Losing his first friend was awful. He’d thought he would be mates with Ron until the very end, talking about Quidditch and losing games of chess to him until they were old and grey. He was angry; he was mad. He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to add a bit of fluff to this, but it decided to end in crying anyway. At least Harry and the Hermiones got over their fight!  
> I almost wonder if I should give up trying to make them happy, none of them ever cooperate with me.


	13. Ch. XIII - Hermione Is A Girl, Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Delayed due to monitor troubles and a brief bout of depression.
> 
> Many thanks to Tyrannic_Puppy for providing comments and beta work on this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: Even when Harry finally escaped from the Dursleys, did anyone at Grimmauld try to properly connect with Harry and help him get over his worries other than Mad-Eye Moody? If not, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.

**3rd of August, 1995,** **No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

“We should be considering isolating Harry from those girls, they’re an awful influence on the poor boy.”

The tentatively nodding heads that followed Molly’s remark did nothing to make Sirius feel better about the current situation. As much as he hated Kreacher, or as much as he _had_ hated Kreacher—the elf had become almost pleasant after they had given him Regulus’ old room—Sirius was unable to deny the old elf’s word on Molly’s endeavours to potion the Hermiones. That she had also tried to potion him in his own home? There was a bloody good reason that he had stolen a calming draught and drunk it before this meeting began.

“I agree.” The snobbish tones of Emmaline Vance had Sirius rolling his eyes; it wasn’t as if she knew anything about Harry outside the bloody Boy-Who-Lived propaganda. “Running about in provocative nightdress, admitting to murder, and now disobeying their guardians? Even if we believe—” Vance waved her hand dismissively. “—that they didn’t use dark magic to duplicate themselves, they are an undue influence on the Boy-Who-Lived.”

“They disobeyed no guardians of note, Vance.” Sirius growled. Remus was missing, again, and the only person in the room he considered to possibly on his side was little Nymmie. Moody, Severus, Minerva, Vance, Diggle, Fletcher, Molly, even Arthur and Albus himself were now all tempting targets to turn the wards on and throw out of the house. “The only adult who has any authority over her in this house is _me_.”

“You cannot believe that!” Molly scowled and glared at him. “She needs proper guidance, and you have no experience raising children!”

“And you have no experience with Muggle children! Nor is this your house. Or did you forget that when you put potions in both my food and theirs without telling any of us?” Sirius sneered as the entire room went quiet. “Oh, didn’t think I’d find out? Kreacher—for all that he is a little bigot—” Fletcher rubbed his head and muttered some undue curses under his breath about the elf, but as much as Sirius wanted to enjoy the little thief’s pain, there were more important matters. “—he obeys orders and traditions. To. The. Letter.”

Tonks was the first one to break the silence, her Auror training kicking in—that or Moody literally kicking her under the table. The old Auror was wearing a curious expression, for all that he didn’t say a word. “What kind of potions, Sirius?”

Dumbledore coughed and answered swiftly. “It was at my request. Sirius is in need of several medicinal potions after his time on the run, and the girls… their grief over their parents needed to be treated.”

“Treated with love potions keyed to Molly’s son? I tested a sample myself, Albus.” Sirius said with a glower. “Even if we had agreed to take potions for our ailments, that is no justification for Molly’s attempt to rape—”

“Why, I would never!”

“—You did! You tried to make her fall in love with your wastrel of a son, so that she would prop him up and take care of him. It puts your attempt to have her change her life-debt from Harry to him in a far more suspicious light.”

Vance scoffed. “I’ve heard that story, and she owes both of them. She should be glad they are honourable enough not to misuse her.”

“Why, Vance, I thought Snivellus was the only Death Eater in my house at the moment. When did you join ranks with the rest of the bigots?”

“Sirius! That is uncalled for.” Minerva reeled back in shock, staring at him. She had been glaring at Vance herself, but she mustn’t be as protective or as fond of the girls as he’d thought she would be.

“Is it?” Sirius glared at Vance for a moment before shaking his head and turning his ire towards Molly once more. “A woman comes into my house, tries to rape a girl who I owe my life to, and attempts to turn me into a drooling imbecile. I tested the potions myself, Albus. There were nutrient potions aplenty, but there were also potions to make me weak-willed.” He narrowed his eyes and glared across the room, meeting most people’s gaze as he snarled. The only one who didn’t seem shocked or concerned was Snape, the arrogant git. “I didn’t know we were stooping so low as to make Death Eaters look kind. At least they’re up front about killing you.”

“As if anyone would notice the difference, Black. If you think any of us will believe this nonsense you must truly have become touched in the head.” Snape sneered.

Sirius gave a momentary glare at Snape, but otherwise ignored the barbed words. Turning to Arthur he made his ultimatum. “I, Sirius Orion Black, owe a life-debt to Hermione Jane Granger. She is under the protection of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, for good or ill, any attack on her, any slight on her person, is an attack on me. Get your wife in line, Arthur. My opinions on this matter are Lily’s opinions, and I won’t have her son associating with a family that condones rape by potion.”

It had been a long debate between James and Lily after they started dating on the morality of the Wizarding World. She compromised on many subjects, but Sirius remembered sitting in on a number of arguments about love potions. Lily had always been appalled by them—as practised a potioneer as she was, she was disdainful of the simplicity by which she could simply make someone her friend, or even _love_ her. It wasn’t until Lily had slipped him with a short acting draught keyed to a rather disgusting witch that Sirius came around to her side.

But after he had, James had followed. He still understood the traditional and accepted use of the potions to save failing marriages, or to make arranged ones tolerable, but that wasn’t the same as slipping a potion into someone’s morning tea. Making someone sing they were a teapot was hilarious, but making someone truly believe they were in love with someone else? It was eerily similar to what his mother had tried to do to make a better son.

He glared at each person in the room in turn. Minerva looked more concerned than anything, but undoubtedly, she believed Albus over himself. Little Nymmie looked appalled, Andromeda hadn’t thought much of such potions herself, and she had that muggleborn husband. Severus was scowling, but that was nothing new. Moody was just grinning, while Diggle looked confused. Vance and Molly both were looking at him like he was insane; not that them doing that was anything new. Vance had fought hard against the idea that he wasn’t a Death Eater, even with Albus’ assurances. Albus himself was frowning and staring at Molly, somewhat in surprise. After a moment he stopped and stooped his head with a sigh. Arthur, however, was the curious one. He looked resigned more than anything.

“I won’t turf out your family or evict the Order. _Yet._ but I want it made clear: this is my house, and as much as Ginevra, Ronald, and the Twins are your business, the Grangers and Harry are _mine_.”

Molly looked ready to protest for a moment, but she was stilled by Arthur placing a hand on her arm.

Dumbledore turned away from Molly and met Sirius’ gaze. The brief flicker of Legilimency against his barriers saw Sirius’ baring his teeth and narrowing his gaze at the old man.

With another sigh Dumbledore tried to turn the meeting onto a different topic. “Have you ascertained anything from your conversation with them, Sirius? They are reluctant to speak with anyone else after the incident with the displaced Miss Granger’s wand.”

“They made a plan to get Harry here, to safety, if at any point he felt his life was threatened. What we have also learned is that Harry’s cousin—Duddies?—was dead before Harry even encountered the Dementors. Harry passed his cousin on his way to the park where he was attacked, but not on his way back to the Dursleys’ house.”

“How can you be so sure?” Diggle asked nervously; he’d been the one on shift before Mundungus but he couldn’t cast a Patronus. If he’d been there, Sirius doubted he’d have been much more use than ‘Dung.

“Because Mrs Figg saw Harry running into the Dursleys home a few minutes after she first saw the Dementors, and since Harry drove them off, they wouldn’t have stayed near enough to attack his cousin! That she discovered Dudley dead afterward hardly means he was kissed after Harry encountered them. It was a cruel attempt to push guilt onto Harry, something he doesn’t need with all the rest of the bloody shite that is going on.”

“Sirius!”

Sirius turned to Minerva and scowled. “There is little hope of him having a happy year as it is, Minerva. He doesn’t need more weight dropped onto his shoulders.”

“Be that as it may, Sirius, but at least try to keep a civil tongue. We don’t need to stoop to coarse language and petty insults.” She held her stern gaze on him for a few moments, before frowning at Molly.

Sirius leaned back and answered the rest of Dumbledore’s questions, but kept mum about anything that the girls had deemed a necessary secret. He gleefully denied Molly’s request to put Harry with her son—Harry could have his own, proper, bedroom for once in his life. It wasn’t as if they were short on them after the girls’ cleaning efforts.

When the meeting was clearing out, he called Dumbledore to remain for a private conversation. Annoyingly, Molly tried to remain, but she found herself unable to follow as Sirius led Dumbledore into a private study.

“Harry is dreaming of the Hall of Prophecies. He also is aware of what he is dreaming about.”

Dumbledore’s eyes widened and Sirius felt the tickle of Legilimency on his shields again. “How?”

“Stop that, neither you nor Snivellus have a right to enter my head, Albus.” Crossing his arms Sirius prepared to spout the best bullshit he could. “Harry described a prophecy orb perfectly, and one of the girls pulled out a book on the Ministry and found a section on how the Ministry handles divination. It didn’t take long for them to figure it out. I am rather suspecting there’s a prophecy involved here, and I would like to know if it really is affecting my Godson.”

This was the moment where Sirius would decide if Dumbledore could be worked with or if he had to be worked around. As much as the girls hadn’t lied to him and had made him more of a paranoid bastard than he already was, cutting Dumbledore off entirely wasn’t a decision to take lightly.

“Thankfully not, Sirius.” Dumbledore lied with a smile. “There was a prophecy involving Harry and Voldemort, but it was fulfilled that dreadful Halloween…”

“Did James know?” Sirius spat out the words, not even bothering to hide his disdain for the half-truth.

Dumbledore nodded serenely. “They both did, it was why they went into hiding. Thank you for keeping it private Sirius; have you impressed on them the importance of secrecy in this matter?”

“I have, if for no other reason than if Harry starts talking about a part of the Department of Mysteries it’ll only paint a bigger target on his back.”

“Thank you, Sirius.” He unlocked the study and began to leave but he paused before he stepped out the door. “I apologise, Sirius… I do not condone love potions, and I truly did only ask Molly to help alleviate Miss Grangers’ grief and aid in your recovery.”

–oOoOo–

Harry barely noticed the knocking on his door the first few times it happened; it wasn’t really something that he expected, someone being polite and not just barging into his room. The Dursleys had never cared for his privacy on the few occasions they deigned to approach him without shouting, and at the Weasleys he had stayed with Ron. In Ron’s room, where his mother would just walk in to wake them up with only a moment’s notice.

Harry’s face contorted into a grimace as he gritted his teeth and pushed away the memories of his time at the Burrow. He didn’t want to think about Ron anymore. Didn’t want to think about him refusing to admit what he did, or the fact he had been forced to choose between his friends.

The knocking grew louder, and a voice accompanied it. “Hey, Harry, can I come in? The meeting’s finally over, and I promised presents today!”

Harry briefly recalled Tonks’ note, and her promise of presents on the third—today—and stood up. He tried to blink away his tears, but soon gave up and took off his glasses to wipe them away with his sleeve. “Just—” His voice came nasally and with a croak, his nose blocked and throat sore, both protesting their misuse. He swallowed and sniffled, trying to clear himself up as best he could. “Just a moment…”

“… Alright, get yerself presentable.” Tonks snickered from the other side of the door. “I know what I did as a teen, and boy, any moment alone…”

Blushing at her implications Harry retreated to his en-suite bathroom and quickly washed his face off in the sink, ignoring the mirror’s comments about his appearance. He knew he looked terrible, and that his hair was a mess—not that anything he had ever tried worked on his hair, or that he cared that much.

Face still a little damp, but feeling a lot more alive, he went back and opened the door to Tonks, letting her inside. She looked him over, her smile becoming a little stiff. “You don’t look so good there, kiddo.”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

“Don’t look like nuthin’ to me, but I getcha.” She kicked the door closed behind her, winking at him. “Technically not supposed to be givin’ you this—not illegal, or anything, but Molly’d throw a fit.” Tonks scowled briefly. “Though, she deserves to have a bloody fit if what Sirius’d said was true.” The scowl vanished suddenly as she grinned, her hair turning bright pink as she literally jumped with glee.

“’Nuff about that. Here, I got stuff to cheer you up! Pressies! Gonna give you the rest with the girls and Sirius later, but these ones are from me.” She pulled out a very messily wrapped package, and a very neatly wrapped little box—it even had a ribbon on top. The first package was oddly shaped, and had Christmas decorations printed on it, but the box was a solid emerald green—except where he spotted a snitch darting about and hiding under the ribbon. “Er, Mum helped me pick out the second one, insisted after I said you’d called me cousin…”

Harry took them gingerly and Tonks dropped herself onto the bed, still grinning at him. “Go on, open ‘em up. It’ll give you something else to think about.”

Feeling a little overwhelmed by Tonks’ bout of smiles and happiness, Harry just nodded lightly, before turning his attention back to his presents. He dropped the box on his bed and lightly opened the messy wrapping of the oddly shaped package, trying not to rip the festive wrapping paper.

“Aw, do you have to be neat about it? Half the fun’s rippin’ it up.”

“Maybe I’ll save it for Christmas and wrap your present in it.” A small smirk made its way onto his face as she blinked, then laughed.

“Hey! I was in a rush, alright? I didn’t have anythin’ else on hand. Only got it off Mad-Eye two days ago, he spent ages making sure it was in perfect condition and writing a maintenance guide.”

He glanced down at the rather long and thin piece of leather, it had a strap on it, but he honestly didn’t know what it was for. When he looked it over a sheet of parchment fell out. “Um,” Harry glanced at the amount of tiny writing on the sheet, before looking up at Tonks. “So, what is it? It’s not gonna… I mean, I don’t know.” He frowned. “I thought I knew professor Moody, but…”

“But you didn’t, yeah. It’s a wand holster, Auror Grade. I had to beg Moody to part with one of his spares—I’ve only got one, and he’s got, like, twenty of ‘em. It pops your wand into your hand all neat like.” As Harry thanked Tonks she grinned and pointed him at his other present. “Come on, it’s cool! Open it!”

Finding it hard not to smile along with her exuberance, Harry sat down next to her and opened the next package after briefly admiring the snitch darting about the paper. Inside, in a little glass case, was a model Firebolt—only a couple of inches long. As soon as he popped the case open it flew up quickly and stopped stock-still mid-air in front of him.

“Pretty little thing, ain’t it? It’s awesome—part of a set: broom, rider, and snitch. Get the lot and it’ll be a game of seeker-and-snitch in miniature. Supposed to be expandin’ to be a whole quidditch game at some point, but that ain’t available yet. There is this, though…” She drew her wand and conjured a few rings of smoke to float in the air and scattered them about the room.

Within moments the Firebolt had sped away, dashing through each smoke ring in turn. It kept up following the route from ring to ring as Tonks kept adding more, until it was making a series of dives, hairpin turns, and loops. Harry leaned back and watched the little broom dart around, imagining what it would be like with a full team—would they talk back like wizard’s chess pieces did? Wood would love it if they did, he could talk strategy and do full planning and practice sessions on his own with something like that.

Even just a tiny broom, let alone an enchanted one, would have been a good present. More than he got most birthdays. But he’d gotten two, just from Tonks, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away as it kept flying. After a few minutes the smoke rings dissipated and the broom slowly settled into a much simpler loop around the room, lazily drifting along without any real urgency. Tonks hadn’t said anything as he stared at the broom doing its circuits, but he knew she was occasionally glancing at him.

He turned to look at her and finally asked the question he had thought of when he opened his first present. “So, what does the holster do?”

She smirked at him. “Wrap around your wrist and hold your wand?”

Harry just stared at her incredulously. There was no way that was all it did, not if it was Auror grade—they were supposed to be elites, or something, weren’t they?

Tonks chuckled and waved him off. “Hah, right. Well, it’ll go invisible—can’t have anyone knowing where your wand is, you know? Why they’re not meant for the public, but you can inherit ‘em, so that’s a bit… eh. Your wand’ll pop into your hand, not get sent flying. Crappy holsters shoot wands out like cannons, and you gotta’ catch it.” She paused and picked it up, pulling out a sheet of parchment to examine. “Er, there’s a bunch of other stuff on here… Bloody hell, mine’s nothin’ like this…” She glanced towards her wrist and scowled briefly, before grinning at him again. “It’ll stun anyone who tries to nick it, keeps your arm, and itself clean so you never have to take it off—that’s such a Mad-Eye thing. He probably showers with his still on.

“Er. It’s fireproof, waterproof—obviously, with the shower thing—mostly magic proof, just don’t try blocking any nastier curses with your arm just ‘cause it’s there, dragonhide… there’s more, like a little expanded pocket in it. For keepin’ money in. It’s a bloody wallet too? Mad-eye might’ve gone overboard… Still, it’s awesome, and yours.” She passed it back to him, letting him take it to examine for himself. “C’mon, put it on! I’ve gotta see you use it for the first time.”

“Alright…” Not liking Tonks’ tone Harry puts the holster on with a little trepidation and sheathed his wand inside. Glancing over the instructions on the parchment Tonks handed him, he quickly tried to draw his wand—only to drop it in surprise, unready for just how responsive the holster was to his movements. He glared at Tonks as she snickered, as it became abundantly clear why she insisted on seeing him use it.

He grumbled under his breath as he picked his wand back up and tried again, this time keeping a hold of his wand. A few more attempts and he was certain he had it down, finding it remarkably easy despite his initial failure.

“Guess that’s what they mean by seeker reflexes, huh.”

He nodded absently. “Hey, Tonks? What’s it like, being an Auror?”

Tonks paused, her lips pursed as her hair settled down into a dull brown. “Not all it’s cracked up to be, that’s for sure. I mean, I’m proud of what I’m doing, and it’s what I want to do—but there’s a lot of paperwork, and politics, and…” She sighed deeply. “The ministry’s a mess, ya know? If someone’s friends with Fudge, or Malfoy, or Umbridge or… anyone ‘ _important_ _’_ , then they don’t get in trouble for anything.

“I almost think Malfoy could kill a girl in the Atrium and get away with it. Well, if he couldn’t, it’d only be ‘cause of Bones. She’s my boss’ boss, and she’s awesome. Probably the one heading your hearing.”

A weighty lump fell into the pit of Harry’s stomach as he thought about his coming trial. Hermione had been the one to tell him about it, the adults hadn’t even bothered yet—all Molly had said was that Dumbledore would take care of everything. Sirius he could understand, he was there when Hermione had told him—but Mr and Mrs Weasley? Tonks herself? She’d said it was a hearing, which maybe it was supposed to be. But it was going to be a real trial, no way the Hermiones were wrong about that. His luck didn’t work that way.

“No one’s talking about that…” He grumbled, then shook his head as she seemed about to respond. “Moody—the fake one, anyway… said I’d make a good Auror.” He chuckled lightly. “A _Death Eater_ said I’d make a good Auror. Probably shouldn’t take his advice… Said the same thing to Hermione, though.”

“Do you think you want to?” Tonks had gone back to her brighter hair, and was looking at him curiously.

“Dunno. Maybe? I’m used to fighting for my life, so it wouldn’t be too much different, I guess.”

“Not what I asked, Harry. Do you enjoy your adventures? Saving people, getting into fights, the recognition?”

Harry stopped still suddenly, turning stuff. He quickly looked away and followed the broom again for a while. He didn’t save people because he wanted to, but because he had to. No one else would’ve gone to Hermione in that bathroom, and she would’ve died. He wouldn’t have gotten his best friend. 

His stomach did a little flip as he thought of what his life would’ve been like if he hadn’t saved Hermione from the troll. He wouldn’t have known about the Basilisk, how Ginny would’ve died, how Sirius would’ve been kissed, that he would’ve been alone until the end of the first task… would he have even tried to face the dragon, or just given up without her? Would he have mastered the summoning charm in time without her? She was just _there_ , and the idea of her not being there was just _wrong._

He should’ve asked her to the ball. He should’ve told her how much it meant that she stood by him when even Ron hadn’t. That she still stood by him, even against Dumbledore, that she… that she went back in time for him. That… that she… that she said she _loved_ him. No one had _ever_ said that to him before.

“Tonks…” He croaked out weakly, finding it hard to speak. “I… can I ask you something? I… I don’t know who else to ask.” He looked her in the eye as seriously as he could. “It’s… it’s about… a girl.”

Tonks nodded and smiled. Not her normal gleeful grin, but a reassuring little smile. “Sure.” She didn’t seem to care about his abrupt change of topic, thankfully.

She closed her eyes and everything about her changed quickly. Her hair turned dark and messy, dropping just past her chin but was somehow still just as unruly as his own. Her face twisted until it reminded him of his pictures of his Mum. She opened her eyes and emerald green stared back at him.

“You can ask your Big Sis Tonksie anything, Harry.” Her smile twisted into a little smirk briefly, before switching back to the soft and reassuring smile. “In all seriousness, I remember being an awkward teenager, and it was terrible. Even with Mum, who I could ask for help whenever I wanted. Not that she was ever an awkward _anythin_ _’_. She’s just awesome and unfair like that.” After a moment Tonks winced. “Ah, sorry, Harry.”

Harry moved his arm hesitantly. Hermione always reached for him when he did stuff like that, didn’t she? Maybe… no. He pulled his arm back, as much as he sort-of-wanted to reassure Tonks by grabbing her hand or something, it would be too uncomfortable. “It’s alright. I know everyone thinks I don’t want to hear about their parents ‘cause I don’t have mine, but… really. I don’t remember them, I don’t—I don’t know what it’s like to have a Mum, or a Dad, and I’d like hearing stories.

“So, feel free. Maybe you could tell me about her; Hermione says she’s my… second cousin?” He stopped and nodded his head. “Yeah, second cousin. ‘Cause you’re my second cousin, once removed.”

“Well, apparently you know it better than I do. I never really paid attention to those lessons.” She relaxed and leaned back. “Sure, I’ll tell you about Mum—but, later. Hermione, right? Both of ‘em.”

“Uh…” Suddenly regretting saying what he had, Harry turned away. “Yeah.”

“Not hard to guess, ya’know?” She shrugged. “It was her, or GInny—and I don’t see you for the type to like fangirls. Best advice I can give is to be upfront, even if it’s scary.”

Harry nodded. “Mia said that… She said that they… she sort of confessed they were in love with me.” His face bright red, Harry squirmed and stared at the firebolt, trying desperately to distract himself and squash his embarrassment. “Or… or falling in love with me.”

“Oh. Well, hmm…” Tonks gave up on holding herself up and flopped back onto the bed, lying down with her arms splayed out. “Do you like them back?”

“I… Hermione’s my best friend? I don’t… I got mad at her last night, over something stupid. I shouted, but she forgave me when I apologised… and this morning she kissed me on the cheek and they told me…”

“Well, it’s really just a case of if you like them back then? And you can’t—or, well, you can, but you _shouldn_ _’t_ —faff about on this. Gotta be upfront and talk—They, or at least one of ‘em, has already put herself out there. It’s on you now.

“It ain’t gonna be perfect, no matter what you do. You ain’t perfect, and neither of ‘em are perfect neither. That she duplicated and there’s two of ‘em means it’ll be awkward, but is it right for both of ‘em to lose out just to be fair? Should you make that decision for them? Unless you think you can handle them both?”

He turned around to look at her incredulously, only to watch as Tonks waggled unnaturally expressive eyebrows at him. He turned away quickly—she looked like she was his _sister._ She was his cousin, but… if he had a sister, would she look like that? He shook his head and tried to get back on track, to not think about the feeling of loss he felt knowing that he didn’t really have a sister. Tonks was family, and she was there with him. For him.

“I’m joking! Seriously, it’s up to them how it’ll work out on their side. Talk to ‘em, Harry. If you like Hermione, go for it. You’re young and maybe it won’t last, but you’re good friends and you’ll still be friends if you start dating, and even if you choose to stop later.”

“You sure?” He didn’t turn to look at her but relaxed at little as she sat up and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“They care more about you than anythin’ else, unless you come to hate them you won’t lose ‘em. My advice is to be honest, talk about how you feel—don’t lie to them, or to yourself. I messed up all my relationships by not followin’ that advice; just be who you are, and accept that she’ll be who she is, too.”

“Okay…” He turned and gave her a smile. After a moment looking at her green eyes he felt tears welling up again, but he brushed them away quickly. “Thanks, Tonks, I’ll… I _will_ talk to them after the thing with my underage magic is dealt with. I don’t… I don’t want to be the prison boyfriend or anything like that.”

She smiled at him and laughed. “Ah, you’ll be fine, there’s exemptions for self-defense or defendin’ others. You didn’t break the statute either, so you’ll be in the clear, easy—”

Harry leaned over all of a sudden and gave her a hug, startling and interrupting Tonks. “Thank you… Thank you, um… Sis…”

Tonks reached up and mussed his hair with a smile. “Aw, you can call me that, if you’d like. I always wanted a sibling, but Mum said one Me was enough.” She returned the hug and squeezed him tightly before letting go, pushing him off slightly so she could look him in the eye. “I’ll hold you to talkin’ to ‘em; even if I have to pretend to be you and do something embarrassing to force it.”

She hummed briefly as he pulled away. He couldn’t stop smiling, she wasn’t really his sister, but she was family. _He had family._

“So, anything you’d like to hear about Mum?”

“Um, what does she do for a living?”

“Well, she’s a healer at St. Mungos—That’s the big Magical Hospital—and is one of the most senior. She deals with curing curses, mostly, and is one of the best. I’d say she _was_ the best, but there’s this little old man who comes around once in a while. He’s like, three hundred years old. Or more. Knows _everything_ about healin’.” 

Harry spent the next hour laughing and having fun as Tonks told stories about growing up, and how she never got away with anything at home. If his Mum—Lily—had been anything like Andromeda, none of his adventures would ever have happened. From the way Tonks spoke, he almost thought if she’d still been enrolled in his second year, her mum would’ve stormed the castle and wrestled the Basilisk into submission herself.

 **6th of August, 1995,** **No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

Mrs Weasley had wanted Harry to spend time with Ron doing more cleaning, but thankfully Sirius had put his foot down and said that he needed to prepare for his trial. It meant he had spent rather a lot of time with dusty old legal books reading about things that were somehow more boring than Binns’ lectures on Goblin rebellions, but since he could be expelled over it, he managed to read it anyway. Not that all of what he had read was terrible, some of the extra books that Hermione had gotten him for DADA were quite interesting. Not the Slinkhard book though, it was horrible to learn that would be the only book the teacher wanted them to read for the entire year.

It had taken a few days more than it might have taken Hermione, but he had finished his reading; something he was proud of. Hermione had been right too, knowing the laws did make the coming trial a lot less scary, since he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. Now he just had to explain what he learned to the Hermiones as part of his apology, even if it was making him nervous.

“Right, um. I’m not in trouble because of several reasons…” Harry started a little uncertainly, shuffling his messy notes as he found his voice. “Mostly because I acted in self-defence, and there wasn’t anyone about. Muggles, I mean. The reasonable restrictions… uh, clause seven, says that an underage wizard… or witch... can use magic in self defense even in the presence of muggles. Although it does go on to state if the Obliviators are needed…

“They weren’t though, so I won’t even get a mark on my record?” He flipped over his note sheet and glanced up at Mia and Ni. Ni was smiling at him with pride, but Mia was looking pensive. Probably worrying about what she was going to have to do, since she was supposed to play regent at the trial. “So long as they believe there were Dementors, anyway… Which they should, since Kingsley… took record of Dudley being kissed as evidence, and Mrs Figg will be available to testify, if that’s not enough.”

Mia shook her head and smiled at him. “That covers most of it, Harry. Did you find anything else, though?” 

“No, I didn’t.”

“You missed the last scion clause.” Ni piped up.

“Huh? Oh, but doesn’t that only apply to houses with seats on the Wizengamot?” He’d read about that clause, it would have been cool if it applied—since it meant that at worst he could be fined, as removing the Last Scion of a Noble House from the Wizarding World wasn’t done for anything short of an Unforgivable Curse. It wouldn’t even be legal to threaten him with Azkaban.

Mia sighed and pulled a book out. “Here, the list of houses on the Wizengamot—the one we care about is… Peverell. Your _other_ house. Most Ancient _and_ Most Noble. It’s always had a seat, but no one has claimed it in…” She glanced down briefly. “Two hundred years. It’s been idle since one Morfin Gaunt died in 1803.” She huffed and put the book aside. “What is it with Purebloods and reusing names? Do they have no creativity at all?”

“Can you tell me how _you_ are going to handle the trial, since you’re the one managing it, Mia?” Harry quickly tried to change the topic. He knew she could easily get into a rant about Purebloods, and with Ni next to her they could keep it going for _hours._ It had been kind of funny the first time, but the second... he wasn’t looking forward to a third.

“Oh. Well, I got the letter back from Andi this morning—need to get Hedwig her treats, she’s been busy—and she said yes. So, you’ll be covered.”

“I mean, how are you going to show up? You can’t…” He shrugged and waved a hand at her. “You know. They check for Polyjuice and stuff.”

“That’s the easy bit! They _only_ check for polyjuice and the like by providing drinks, preventing bringing your own, and checking for glamour charms.” Ni grinned. “They don’t even bother checking for Muggle disguises. Mia’s just going to trick them with some makeup and a wig.”

“So, I’ll see you there then.”

“We won’t be interacting, Harry. I’m not going to be doing more than declaring myself and voting; if I did, I might get kicked out, and at that point they’d probably look more closely.”

As Harry shifted uncomfortably, Mia got up and gave him a hug. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there, Andi will be there, and Tonks will be there. You aren’t going to be going alone, and everything will work out just fine. Just remember to be ready to cast your Patronus, Madam Bones will call you out on it. She did before.”

“Right,” He hugged her back lightly, but glanced at Ni as he did so. She was looking on with a soft smile. After his talk with Tonks he thought they might get jealous of each other when he interacted with only one of them, but so far it hadn’t happened. He was seriously hoping the trial went off without a hitch so he could talk to them; he didn’t think they’d both want to be with him, he didn’t have that kind of luck. But… he was certain he liked her back. Both _hers_ , as difficult as that made things. Being more than best-friends with either of them would be nice. 

No matter what, though, he could _not_ ruin their friendship. Even if it meant embarrassing letters to Tonks and Andromeda each week for advice. He still couldn’t believe how forthright Tonks’ Mum could be, or how she just accepted his letters and replied without any kind of fuss. Hedwig was going to be busy this year, more than any other. At least she was enjoying being useful.

Later, when they were being called down for dinner by an upset Mrs Weasley—she wasn’t taking having her cooking inspected particularly well—he heard Mia and Ni whisper quietly to each other.

“When do you think we should do the cleansing ritual?” Ni asked.

“After the trial; I _know_ he’s going to be okay, but it’s still making me nervous. We don’t want any kind of uncertainty during it _ever._ I could hurt him badly if it went wrong.”

He didn’t linger, but it was something he had been thinking about. His scar—Voldemort’s Horcrux. What if they could use it to force a confrontation, like the one at the ministry, and end the war early and in public? If it saved lives it would be worth carrying _Him_ around for a while longer.

No matter how disgusting it felt knowing _He_ was in there, trapped by his Mum’s sacrifice.

 **7th of August, 1995,** **No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

Moony had finally gotten free of giving his report to Dumbledore. He’d been off with the packs for three weeks, and that meant he hadn’t seen him since Harry had his mirror stolen. Moony’s mirror. Hopefully he could convince Dumbledore to return it, so they’d have a way to talk while Harry was at Hogwarts; otherwise they’d have to find a way into the vault containing all the valuables from Godric’s Hollow.

He was glad that if they had to, he wouldn’t be the one going through all that. There was no way he could handle finding some of the things that must be there—he didn’t even know if they’d gotten their portraits done or not. Probably not, which was why he never mentioned it to anyone. Not worth getting Harry’s hopes up.

They finally sat down, and he poured both of them a glass of Firewhiskey—the temptation to down the whole bottle and just _forget_ for a while was there, but he squashed it just as he had been for the last month. He had kids depending on him. Now more than ever before.

“Did you really have to air all that at the meeting, Sirius?” Remus sipped at his drink lightly and frowned at him. “The Order is shaky enough as it is with the way the Minstry’s behaving—making people suspect each other… I’ve even heard Hestia whispering about Dumbledore, as if it were his fault.”

Sirius simply glared at his friend for a while as he nursed his own drink. That was not what he expected of Moony, not at all. “I did,” He finally said, “I am not letting that _bitch_ get away with using love potions in _my_ house, on someone _I owe my life to._ ”

“You could have confronted her in private. There was no need to sabotage—” 

“Damn it Moony! It did need to come out in public! Or do you think she would stop there, when she has a daughter who is obsessed with Harry? Do you want James’ son manipulated and ensorcelled into marriage?!”

Remus grit his teeth and breathed deeply. “I come back from the packs, hoping that we are making progress, only knowing that Harry was attacked and that he got here safe—by some _miracle_ after what Granger pulled.” He returned Sirius glare, and his voice grew heated. “I come back, and here you are defending someone who risked Harry’s life, and you’ve disrupted _everything_ we are working for over something inconsequential. You’re as reckless as ever, and so are they.” He turned to leave but glanced over his shoulder as he moved for the door. “I should never have given you the mirror.”

Sirius balked. He’d expected Moony to defend Dumbledore—Remus had always been the one who respected the Headmaster the most—but to defend _Molly_ , and think it was _okay_ for the potions to have happened? “The hell, Remus. Do you not remember what Lily taught us in sixth year?” He followed after Remus, and then it clicked. “Wait. Bloody hell, did you tell Dumbledore about the mirror? Are you—”

Remus turned around suddenly, fury written on his face as he snarled back at Sirius. “You didn’t—No. No, Padfoot. I did _not_ turn _traitor._ You made a stupid mistake, but I didn’t betray you over it; but thanks for showing how much you _trust_ me.” 

Sirius stopped, and drooped. His entire body falling as he realised what he had said. “I didn’t—”

“You didn’t,” Remus cut in, before sighing. “And I didn’t either. It’s stressful out there, Sirius, and I’ve got to go back tomorrow. We’ll talk another time. Clearer heads, and all that.”

“Right. Sorry, Moony.” 

“Goodnight, Padfoot.” 

Slumping back into his seat Sirius poured himself another half-glass. He stopped and glared at the bottle for a minute, before calling Kreacher to dispose of it. He was Sirius Orion Black, not some bloody drunkard. He’d fight for his godson and his girlfriends, fuck everything else. Even his best friend, if he had to.

He downed his final drink of Fire-Whiskey and grimaced as he started to cry. _Should be you here, Prongs_ _… Moony’d listen to you._


	14. Ch. XIV - Hermione And A Trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter until the Express, I hope. This bloody summer is actually nearly over…
> 
> Many thanks to Tyrannic_Puppy for providing comments and beta work on this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: Was Harry let off on remarkably flimsy evidence in canon, relying almost entirely on Dumbledore’s bluster? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.

**12th of August, 1995,  No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

Remarkably little had happened at Grimmauld since Harry’s arrival. They hadn’t gotten around to cleansing Harry’s scar, or the ring, but had it all prepared for when everything was a bit more settled and they weren’t feeling as jittery. Really, Hermione thought they should have done the ring anyway—but she was sure Mia was apprehensive about it due to what had happened to her the last time they had tried.

Both Harry and Sirius knew everything that had happened in the war now, and Harry was weirdly interested in the ministry confrontation. He even apologised to both her and Mia about getting them hurt by not listening to her, despite the fact it hadn’t even happened yet!

But no, nothing interesting really happened. Outside of Harry falling out with Ron, anyway. He was still denying that he’d gone and told someone about the mirror or messed up and gotten it discovered. They—she, Mia, Sirius, _Mrs Weasley,_ and Tonks, were waiting for Harry to finally wake up and come downstairs so Tonks could take him to the Ministry early. Umbridge would be changing the time on them, and Mia still had to get ready, so he really needed to _hurry up._

“I still don’t understand why you’re bothering poor Tonks over this, Arthur can take him in when he goes to work! It wouldn’t trouble Arthur at all, and it would let Tonks get on with her duties.” Mrs Weasley was arguing with Sirius again, but for once she wasn’t shouting—probably only because her own children were still asleep.

“Tonks volunteered, Molly.” Sirius stated flatly as he stared up the stairs impatiently. “And Harry is going to be meeting Andromeda today, you read the letter. No one better to introduce them than her own daughter.” He grumbled and cursed quietly under his breath. “Still think _I_ should be going, moral support if nothing else…”

“I got asked Sirius, and quite unfairly too! How’re you supposed to fight off puppy dog eyes from him? They’re so green, it’s just unfair!” Tonks pouted from where she was leaning up against the Floo. “It’s no trouble for me though, got me a good night’s sleep. It’s only proper for an Auror to do the escortin’ anyway.”

Mrs Weasley just huffed and the rest of them rolled their eyes at her. She had been stymied in her efforts to potion them, but she was entirely unrepentant. Detection spells had become commonplace at meals though, even to the point that no one made a fuss when she and Mia cast them in plain sight. Well, no one other than Ron. He whined about how unfair it was that they got to cast spells when he didn’t.

Harry finally stumbled down the stairs, looking surprisingly good in his semi-formal robes. He struggled with adjusting his tie for a moment, but before she could step up Tonks had already done so and redid it for him. Those two had gotten remarkably close, and she couldn’t help feeling a little jealous at times. He had always relied on her, and now he was finding others that he could also rely on for some things.

She didn’t act on her jealousy though, squashing it down as hard as she could. He’d heard her whisper ‘Thanks, Sis’ to Tonks, and even through her jealousy it had melted her heart. He finally had people he could call family, and she could _never_ hold that against him, or who he chose to hold so close. She just hoped he wouldn’t forget her.

“Sorry,” he said once Tonks finished straightening him up. “Wanted to go over my notes again and my watch… um, I forgot it broke back in the lake during the second task…” He looked down at his wrist sheepishly.

Mia put her head in her hands and groaned “Knew there was something we forgot to get you for your birthday…” She shook her head and peered at Harry. “Well, there’s always Christmas, right Sirius?”

“Right,” Sirius grinned, clearly happy to have an idea for what to get Harry as a present. “You all set then?”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled. “Ready as I can be, I guess.”

“Come on then Harry, got to get you to Mum so you can get to know each other a bit before the hearing.” Tonks looped her arm through his and shifted subtly; her hair turning black with red tips and her eyes turning green to match Harry’s.

As Tonks lead Harry to the Floo and dragged him through it they all wished Harry good luck. The twins had shown up too, staying just long enough to say goodbye before rushing back to their room. Ron was unsurprisingly absent; probably still asleep. Ginny not being about was a little odd, though.

She sighed quietly. There wouldn’t be anything for her to do but wait until he came back. Maybe help the twins with their party preparations; they’d been planning it in ‘secret’ all week.

Mia rushed off back to their room to get ready to take part in the trial, and she was left with Sirius and Mrs Weasley, who were glaring at each other. She slowly shifted away, not wanting to have to listen to yet another argument and burgeoning shouting match between the two adults.

It was pretty clear by this point that the only reason Sirius was letting Mrs Weasley stay was because no one else in the house could cook, except maybe herself, Mia, and Harry. But no one would make Harry cook, and neither she nor Mia knew how to use the magical appliances to do it, so they were stuck with burnt toast, or Mrs Weasley. She’d have preferred the burnt toast, personally. It was more palatable.

–oOoOo–

Harry and Tonks fell out of the Floo into the Headmaster’s office at Hogwarts in a heap, and Dumbledore smiled at them, before looking down and scratching away at a mass of parchment on his desk. “Still having trouble, I see. I’ll be along shortly, Miss Tonks, Harry. Feel free to go on ahead.”

“Right’o, professor.” Tonks grumbled as she righted herself. “Do you always have trouble with the Floo, Harry?”

“Yeah, it’s… normal. Why’re we here?”

“The protections I set around Grimmauld Place prevent normal Floo access. The house only connects to here, at Hogwarts, and, with much effort, the Burrow. Convenience has been sacrificed for security.” Dumbledore didn’t look up from his paperwork, and Harry felt a little jolt of hurt as Hermione was proven right once again. Dumbledore wasn’t completely ignoring him, but he wasn’t being open anymore. He probably hadn’t even wanted Harry to be there.

“You should be going, Miss Tonks.” Dumbledore dismissed them with a curt wave of his hand.

Tonks grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him back to the Floo. “He’s busy, Harry. He’s got stuff to do before your trial starts. Come on.” With a call of ‘Ministry of Magic, Atrium!’ they were both hurtling down the Floo once more.

–oOoOo–

They managed to step out into the Atrium far more cleanly than they had into Dumbledore’s office, and she was glad of that. Falling out of the Floo was something she always tried to avoid—not that she always had much success. Tonks checked Harry over and waved her wand at him to banish any residual soot; he needed to look his best today. Mum had been clear on that.

“He was a bit grumpy, wasn’t he? Still, glad he agreed to let us do that.” She started leading Harry over to the entrance desk. “Wanted you to go with Arthur the muggle way, but me and Mad-Eye convinced him that was dumb. Like, really dumb. Anyone could ambush you if you went that way, this is safer.”

“Right,” Harry murmured quietly. He was following along behind her, but he must be worrying again. “Don’ worry, Harry. Mum’ll handle everythin’ just fine. Now, let's get you checked in.”

They walked up to the security guard and went through the tedious process of getting Harry checked for cursed items and his wand logged. Tonks could remember having to pull that duty during training, and it was the dullest thing she had ever done. Even staring at a window on a stakeout with Mad-Eye had been more fun; at least then she’d had a little weather and the occasional bit of Muggle music coming from the cars to spice things up.

Visitor badge and pass for Harry acquired, she led him to the meeting room her Mum had booked for the morning. It was on the same level as where his hearing was supposed to happen, so they’d make it easily when the time came. They managed to get an elevator to themselves and enjoyed the ride up going quickly and smoothly; something pretty rare for the ministry. “You alright Harry?” She asked as he started fidgeting again.

“Uh, yeah… aren’t we underground, though?” He pointed at one of the windows lining the corridor on the way to the meeting rooms.

“Uh-huh.” She nodded, briefly unsure of what he meant. She looked at the window and figured it out. “Oh, right. Yeah, they’re enchanted. Maintenance decides the weather we get; sometimes they get a little crazy, and there’s a story they did Hurricanes the last time they wanted a raise.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t around for that, if it’s true. Before I graduated. I do wish they’d do more rainbows, though. They’re always pretty and I can do my hair to match.”

She flickered her hair through all seven colours as they walked, before settling back on her matching black. She’d had to go back to her regular features for the most part. There was always a fuss if she didn’t look like she was supposed to when arriving in Auror Headquarters. 

It wasn’t long before they stepped through a set of heavy oak doors and emerged her wonderful workplace, the sea of Auror cubicles. “Welcome to where I work,” she gestured grandly, “when I’m not doing the fun stuff anyway.”

“Tonks? You’re in early!” Tonks groaned as Jenine Smith, one of her many seniors, rushed up to her. “Good, I’ve got something I need help with—”

“Can’t, Jens. Got an escort to a hearing, and I’m on leave today. Leadin’ him about and I’m going to spend some time with Mum.”

Jens huffed. “Tonks, this is _important_ , you can play escort some other time. Now, give him directions to wherever he needs to go, and—”

“And you will stop harassing the juniors, Auror Smith. I removed your trainee for a reason. Get a patrol officer to help you, that’s what they’re for.”

Tonks sighed with relief as Madam Bones strode past nursing a cup of tea. “Heya, boss. Got your eleven am here, all nice and early.”

“Hmm?” Madam Bones glanced at Harry and her eyes widened. “You didn’t get the letter, Mister Potter?”

“Er, what letter?” Harry brushed at his forelocks nervously, trying to hide his scar. The way his hair shifted right back to how it had been was a little odd, it made her curious… Tonks dropped that train of thought and refocused back on her boss. She could explore that idea later when they had a bit of free time.

“The hearing—” Madam Bones scoffed, “—trial now, thanks to the Undersecretary, has been moved up to eight, and down to courtroom ten.” She took a sip her tea and nodded at them. “Good to see that you are early.” She turned away from Harry without comment and looked at Tonks. “Andy’s waiting for you, Tonks, interrogation room six. The Malfoy’s took the witness meeting room an hour ago and haven’t left yet.” With another nod she strode away, with one last meaningful stare at Jens making sure they were left alone.

Tonks breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, that was, er, fortunate. Mum’d have known—ah hells, you’ve only got twenty minutes to talk to her now. Come on!” She didn’t run, but she did start dragging Harry along forcefully as she made her way to interrogation room six.

It wouldn’t be pretty or comfortable, and Mum’d be annoyed, but it was still private at least.

–oOoOo–

Courtroom Ten. Umbridge, that miserable toady, was trying to make a statement. In the very place the last of the Death Eaters had been sentenced—or in the case of Malfoy and his ilk, allowed to run free in exchange for a sack of gold—Harry was being put on trial. The location only made the sham even more blatant and farcical, and from the whispers she could hear from all around her, many of those there knew it too.

Madam Bones was the last to enter before Harry and Andromeda came in. She led them into the room herself and had Harry sit in the accused’s chair, while Andromeda stood at his side.

Umbridge had scowled when Harry entered, but quelled it into her saccharine smile as Madam Bones approached.

“The accused is present—but who is that with him?” Fudge said coldly, looking mildly annoyed.

“Andromeda Irma Tonks, Senior Healer of St. Mungos, and legal counsel for the defendant.” Andromeda intoned perfectly, not batting an eye under the gaze of the assembled Wizengamot. The same could not be said for Harry, who shifted nervously as he looked about the room. 

Eventually he met her gaze and she saw the spark of recognition; she nodded slightly, just enough to let him know she was there. She was his proxy, his regent—no matter how much she wanted to go down there and reassure him, to hug him and tell him everything would be okay, she couldn’t. As much as she had a right to be there, if she did anything improperly someone would call her out on it, and she couldn’t risk more than a cursory examination.

A frown crossed Fudge’s face; he didn’t seem to recognise Andromeda, but he did recognise her formality. Legal counsel was rare in the wizarding world; there were no solicitors, no barristers, no lawyers. The only defence most people had was the mercy of the ministry. For those lucky enough, or wealthy enough, there was legal counsel in the form of those tutored in law by their families. Like Andromeda, the perfect pureblood queen who had run away to marry a muggleborn.

“We require another chair then—”

“That would be improper, Investigator. As legal counsel, I am neither the accused nor component to the court. I am to remain standing.”

His cheeks colouring, Fudge turned away from Andromeda. “Very well, let us begin. Are you ready?” He called out to his scribe—who, as he perked up, Hermione recognised as Percy. Percy Bloody _Weasley_. Somehow they seemed to be involved in everything wrong with the magical world except Voldemort.

“Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August,” Percy dutifully took note of Fudge’s every word eagerly, “into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy—”

Andromeda raised her hand and stalled Fudge. “As the only spell the defendant, Mr Potter, has been charged with casting is the Patronus Charm, a charm specifically noted to both be invisible and undetectable to Muggles—much like Dementors themselves—any declared violation of International Statute of Secrecy is invalid under its own articles.”

Fudge grimaced and glanced at Madam Bones, whose eyebrow rose behind her monocle. Emboldened by her lack of a response, Fudge chose to continue, ignoring Andromeda’s interruption. “The International Statute of Secrecy—” He nodded to Percy to continue where he left off. “By Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

“Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley—”

“Witness for the defence, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.” Hermione couldn’t help herself; she rolled her eyes at Dumbledore’s theatrics. It was clear that he had waited for the right moment to arrive to have the most impact, and he declared himself as a _witness_ , of all things. His eyes met hers as he strode across the room, and she felt the tell-tale tickle of Legilimency upon her shields. She turned them on him more viciously than she ever had when he had tried in Grimmauld, trying to make the response feel as different as possible.

It wouldn’t be good if he figured out who she was because her Occlumency felt similar.

As he blinked and rubbed the bridge of his nose from her _hopefully painful_ response, Kingsley and Mrs Figg both trailed in behind him. They were largely ignored by the wider Wizengamot, who all kept staring at Dumbledore. Some, like her, seemed to accept his presence with little enthusiasm, but a few seemed outright afraid. In the back, on the other side of the chamber, she saw Augusta Longbottom and Griselda Marchbanks both wave to him in welcome.

“Ah,” Fudge looked ill at ease, surprised by Dumbledore’s sudden appearance. “Dumbledore. Yes. You—er—got our message that time and—er—place of the hearing had been changed, then?”

“I must have missed it, however, a kindly owl belonging to the Regent Potter,” He nodded to Hermione with a bright smile. The nod she returned, but she did not smile back. “Arrived half an hour ago telling me of the change.” 

All eyes turned to Hermione after Dumbledore had drawn attention to her. Fudge himself looked at her in confusion, but it was Umbridge who spoke up first.

“Regent Potter? Why is _she_ present here? This is court is only for employees of the Ministry and the most respected members of our society!”

There were a number of murmurs of assent throughout the house, and Madam Bones called for her to stand and announce herself properly. With a sigh Hermione stood and stared impassively across the hall, her feet complaining as she struggled to keep her balance atop her high platform shoes. She was entirely unused to them, and they were the part of her disguise that she was regretting the most.

“Hera Jasmine Peverell, Regent for the Ancient House of Potter, and the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell.” The room briefly fell into silence, and she took the opportunity to sit back down. The silence quickly ended, and only a few had kept their composure. Harry was one who had reacted the least, and almost exclusively to her choice of name.

Andromeda and Madam Bones had merely raised their eyebrows at her curiously, accepting her statement and moving on. Andromeda had been told that she was making use of the seat of a Noble House, but not that it was Peverell. Peverell always brought up awkward questions.

“Peverell has been extinct—”

“Madam Undersecretary, the Honourable Regent would not be sitting in that chair if she had not provided sufficient evidence of her status. Any investigation into the Lady Regent Peverell will occur at another time; it is not pertinent to this case.” Madam Bones stared at Umbridge until she retreated back to her shadowed position beside the minister.

“Ah, right. Do we need…” Fudge began nervously, only to be cut off by Andromeda.

“Witnesses are component to the court, Investigator Fudge, and are expected to be provided seating. That particular precedent, however, is newer than this courtroom.” Andromeda smiled softly at the Minister, who only seemed to grow more nervous as a result.

“Not to worry, not to worry,” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled cheerfully. He appeared to enjoy the ease by which Andromeda caused the Minister distress. He took out his wand, gave it a little flick, and three squashy chintz armchairs appeared out of nowhere next to Harry. Dumbledore sat down, and both Kingsley and Mrs Figg soon followed.

No longer ignored by the court, Madam Bones stared curiously at Kingsley, who simply shrugged. Mrs Figg, however, also received a number of stares from older members of the court. Those old enough to know who she was, and that she was a squib, perhaps.

The Wizengamot continued muttering about the Witnesses, who Dumbledore announced from his seat, and her—barely within earshot Hermione heard someone question who she, the Regent of the House of Death, would kill by the end of the day. They finally stopped their whispers when Fudge spoke up again.

“Yes, well then. So. The charges. Yes.” He pulled out a piece of parchment from the pile before him and began reading. “The charges against the accused are as follows: That he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar charge, produce a Patronus Charm in Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle,” Mrs Figg huffed and crossed her arms, glaring at the minister as he said the word Muggle. “on the second of August at twenty-three minutes past nine, which constitutes an offence under Paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks’ Statute of Secrecy.

“You are Harry James Potter, of number four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?” Fudge glared at Harry over the top of his parchment.

Glancing at Andromeda, Harry responded with a yes.

“You received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago, did you not?”

“Yes,” Harry had closed his eyes and grit his teeth, clearing resisting the urge to say more. They couldn’t prove it was Dobby that had cast the hover charm and trying wouldn’t help in any way. House Elves were _Unreliable Witnesses_ , according to Ministry policy.

“And yet you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?”

“Yes, but—”

“Knowing that—”

“Investigator, as per the code of conduct for a Ministry Court Investigator, you are not permitted to interrupt the defendant’s answer unless it exceeds a full minute in length.” Andromeda interrupted, her voice remarkably quiet as it cut clearly across the room. “Mister Potter, continue.”

“Yes, I cast the Patrons charm on the second of August. Because there were Dementors, and they were getting closer to me. I—”

“That is sufficient, Mister Potter, you have answered the question in full.” Andromeda cut in and stopped him before he could ramble on. He huffed and settled back in his seat, waiting for the next question.

“Dementors?” Madam Bones said, making a note on her parchment, “No, don’t answer. Continue, Minister Fudge.”

Fudge once again scowling fiercely, glaring at Harry as he continued. “Knowing that you were in an area full of Muggles?”

“Yes,” Harry replied sullenly and with a roll of his eyes. Hermione sighed and Andromeda flicked an annoyed glance him before Fudge spoke again.

“Fully aware that you were in close proximity to a Muggle at the time?”

“No, I was not.”

Fudge paused, seemingly confused. “What?”

“I was not in the presence of a Muggle—or at least, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t. There wasn’t anyone in the park with me, and the last person I saw was my cousin, Dudley, but that was at least twenty minutes before the Dementors.”

Kingsley coughed and stood. Madam Bones gestured for him to continue, ignoring Fudge’s protest.

“An investigation into the scene of the spell was performed as per protocol, and at the scene was one Dudley Oliver Dursley, deceased. He was suffering from… all the known symptoms of the Dementor’s Kiss. He was discovered at twelve-ten pm, and all documentation was sealed as relevant to this hearing, prior to referring the case to Muggle law enforcement.” He stepped forward to present Madam Bones with a large brown file. “All evidence is present in here, Madam Bones. Aurors Tonks, Moody, and Jones all verified my investigation as per protocol.”

“Thank you Auror Shacklebolt, this explains your presence at least.” She stared at him, not quite a glare but still unfriendly. “I appreciate initiative, but I do _not_ like being left out of the loop.” She opened the file and began reading, only to pause as the room descended into chaotic whispers again. She turned to Fudge; “Minister, please continue while I examine the evidence provided by Auror Shacklebolt.”

“Um, ah…” Fudge had gone pale, shocked by Kingsley’s participation. “Is there a purpose to the… other witness?” he said weakly.

“There is indeed, Arabella?” Dumbledore gestured for Mrs Figg to stand.

She stood but fidgeted nervously. As Fudge seemed reluctant to act, and Madam Bones was still poring over Kingsley’s file, Andromeda prompted her with the proper way to introduce herself to the court.

“Arabella Doreen Figg, resident of Number fourteen, Privet Drive.”

“I’ve not heard of any witches or wizards living on Privet Drive, except for Harry Potter.” Fudge crowed, latching onto that fact as if were a lifeline.

“I’m a squib. So, you wouldn’t have me on record, would you?”

“A squib, eh—”

“Mister Potter, there is only one piece of evidence required to call this hearing to a close under Clause Seven of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery.” Madam Bones cut over Fudge and stared out at Harry. “Mister Potter, please demonstrate your Patronus Charm. This use of magic is authorised and will not be placed on record.

“This report,” She tapped Kingsley’s file, “makes it abundantly clear there were Dementors present on Privet Drive on August Second. A full investigation will be launched, and a tighter watch will be placed on Azkaban—budget allowing.” She turned a sharp glare towards Umbridge, who smiled back sweetly.

Fudge began to bluster, “He has still broken the restrictions on two other occasions! The usage of a hover charm three years ago—” Dumbledore moved to interrupt, but Andromeda stilled him with a _look_. “—and he blew up his aunt!”

Andromeda turned towards Fudge with one perfectly raised eyebrow. “The restrictions, like all of our laws, make exceptions for cases of the usage of Accidental Magic. No spell was cast with a wand two years ago, and as such there was no breach of the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery.” She smiled softly, almost predatorially. “Is there anything else, Investigator?”

Fudge stepped back, retreating under her gaze. “I, ah… he—there have been reports… from Hogwarts…”

“Hogwarts has long been independent in its discipline, and the Ministry cannot prosecute a crime committed on Hogwarts Ground without the permission of either the Headmaster, or the Board of Governors. No such dispensation has been granted in the case of Mister Potter.” Andromeda’s smile remained unchanged, even as she stared down the minister as if he was nothing but a petulant child.

Hermione shivered slightly; the room had gone completely quiet as Andromeda had spoken, unwilling to interrupt the lady before them. She was eminently grateful the most formidable of all the Black Sisters was on their side; Bellatrix was insane, but brilliant. Narcissa was the perfect socialite, but Andromeda… Andromeda was perfect poise and nobility, with all the intensity anyone could ever ask for.

She was also an excellent Healer and had earned her Mastery in the subject a dozen times over. She’d been the one person who knew about Hermione’s plan in the future, the one person she—not her older self—had been able to talk to about it… Andy had helped. She had barely asked for anything in return, asking that she didn’t let Nymphadora or Ted die again so soon was hardly an imposition. Seeing her again only made Hermione more determined to keep that promise. Hermione wished she could tell Andy everything, but the woman had asked her not to. To never tell her how she had lost her husband and daughter.

She hadn’t planned for Harry, Tonks, and Andy to bond—but if they got along, it would be good for him, and she would encourage it. It’s not like she’d been able to keep much of the plan so far anyway.

Madam Bones gave Fudge a long and pointed look, before nodding to Andromeda with a smile. “Thank you, Counsel Tonks, for presenting that clearly. Mister Potter, the Patronus Charm, please. If you are unable to produce it fully formed, then we must investigate by what other means you escaped the Dementors, and if there was another present.”

“Of course, he can’t cast it, even most Pureblood Adults can’t; he’s just a boy.” Umbridge sneered from beside Fudge. “I don’t know how you faked—”

“Madam Umbridge, this trial is about the Defendant’s, that is, Harry Potter’s casting of a Patronus Charm, correct?” Andromeda cut across Umbridge, turning her gaze on the Undersecretary fully for the first time.

“Of course, and he should—”

“Then, Madam Umbridge, if Mister Potter was unable to cast the Patronus Charm, why then are we present, here, in a hearing for his casting of the charm?”

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her laughter. Umbridge’s face had twisted up in confusion, then outrage—but, somewhat sadly, Madam Bones took back control of the court before she could embarrass herself further. 

With a clearly audible snort of amusement, Madam Bones waved for Harry to cast the charm. “Continue, Mister Potter. Please.”

“Er, right.” Harry stood up from his seat after receiving a nod from Andromeda. His wand appeared in his hand—to a raised eyebrow from Madam Bones—and he closed his eyes. After a moment he roared: “Expecto Patronum!” and his stag burst forth, cantering around the courtroom before bowing to Hermione and dissipating into smoke.

“Remarkable,” Madam Bones said, “truly remarkable.” She stood and glanced around the room, and spoke loudly and clearly. “As this is a full criminal trial—even if it is for a minor case of underage magic—I am forced to call upon those assembled. Those in favour of clearing the defendant of all charges?”

Dozens of hands filled the air swiftly, Hermione’s hand amongst them. It was a clear majority even before Madam Bones called for those in favour of conviction. Only three besides Fudge and Umbridge voted for it.

Fudge glanced around at them all, his face still ashen pale and stumbling over his words as if something was stuck in his throat. He lowered his hand and took in several deep breaths. His voice was shaky and hesitant, a mixture of worry and anger clear for all to hear. “Very well… cleared of all charges.”

“Excellent,” Dumbledore stood and smiled, as if he had been the lynchpin upon which Harry’s case had been won. “Well, I must be getting along. Good-day to you all.”

As he marched away Harry stared at his back, and Hermione realised that Harry was feeling torn by the Headmaster’s dismissal. She had told him that Dumbledore was going to be avoiding him, but she hadn’t properly considered how much he looked up to the old man. He was going to need a distraction, something to take his mind off of it. Hopefully, Andromeda could supply one until he got back to Grimmauld; if nothing else, the twin’s party would be distracting.

–oOoOo–

Tonks was bouncing on her heels as the courtroom doors opened and Dumbledore strode out. She wasn’t allowed in—she had wanted to be the one to present the evidence, but Kingsley had been the one to investigate Dudley’s death, and he was senior to her. It was frustrating that she was _still_ treated like a rookie after four years of training, but she understood how it worked.

She didn’t have to like it though.

She nodded to the Headmaster as he passed, his eyes twinkling, but she didn’t pay much attention to him. Mum and Harry weren’t far behind. “Mum! Harry! It went well, yeah?” Her hair was flickering in anticipation of their reply; she wasn’t worried. It was Mum, and they had plenty of evidence.

“It went wonderfully, Nymphadora.” Mum ignored Tonks’ cry of protest at her first name with a smile. “Come, Amelia promised us a meal in the witness meeting room because of the… scheduling issues. For our troubles. It will be good to talk before you return Harry to my childhood home.”

Nymphadora paused, stumbling over her feet, and Harry’s face went pale as he looked at Mum in shock. “Er, what?”

“We’re in public, dear daughter. Patience.” After giving her a reassuring smile Mum turned to Harry. “While we are in public, I shall remain somewhat formal, Mister Potter. We can be more casual once we are in private.”

They walked in a nervous silence—She and Harry did anyway, Mum was completely at ease—all the way up the stairs to the elevators. They weren’t so lucky as to get one to themselves this time and ended up sharing with a startled Arthur.

Before the door to the elevator closed she saw the Hera woman—the _Potter_ and _Peverell_ regent—approaching them. A peculiar expression crossed the woman’s face though, and she turned away and walked off in a hurry. Strange, and a little disappointing. She’d wanted to talk to her; make sure she was doing right by Harry and the Grangers.

“Ah, Harry.” Arthur said as they elevator got underway, “You made it to your trial fine? Perkins told me as soon as I got in—good thing you went with Tonks—the younger Tonks, I mean.” He took Mum’s offered hand and it. “It’s good to see you again Andromeda, we haven’t spoken since Cedrella passed.”

“It is good to see you too, Arthur. Though I wish you wouldn’t aid Nymphadora in her quest to dismiss her name.”

He chuckled as she flushed. Mum never understood just how embarrassing it was to be called a _Nymph._ She’d avoided having sex for years because of that! Just to prove them wrong. It hadn’t worked, and the false reputation had soured more than one relationship of hers back at Hogwarts.

At least things were better these days. Both because she didn’t let people call her that, and she didn’t care as much. 

“Yeah, yeah.” She grumbled, glaring at Harry as he snickered at her.

Mum and Arthur had a brief chat about reconnecting which she mostly tuned out. Harry, for the most part, seemed interested so she didn’t try to talk to him. He was probably happy to hear how the extended family got along. She didn’t remember Cedrella much, the old lady had died when she was six. Still, there was something about redheads and a pond which she remembered fondly.

Arthur said goodbye and went back to his workplace once they got to the Auror Headquarters, and they sequestered themselves in the private meeting room.

“Now that we’re in private and not in a rush, I want to say I am very happy to finally meet you, Harry. After I was… disowned, Dorea was one of the few members of my family I could still speak with. She, and your father, were both there when Nymphadora was born.” Mum was smiling beatifically. It was her kindest smile, and one of the rarest.

“It’s, um, nice to meet you too, Mrs Tonks…”

“Call me Andromeda or Andy, Harry. If things hadn’t been so volatile at the end of the war, I suspect I would have been an Aunt of sorts to you.”

“Mum?” Tonks didn’t want to interrupt, but once she had finished turning on all the privacy wards on the room she _had_ to ask. “What did you mean by… _childhood home?_ ” 

Mum turned to her and laughed lightly. “You don’t think I ever believed Sirius to be guilty, do you? He was terrible around children, he adored them too much. Why, I remember when he first met you, he was just sixteen and we were all at the Potters. You grabbed onto his finger held onto it for six hours, and he never once complained.

“I never had the chance to see it for myself, but I have no doubt he was as enamoured with Harry as he was you.” Her smile turned sad. “He ever was a boisterous child, but he did not, and does not have it in him to be a traitor.”

“If… if you knew, why didn’t you do anything?” Harry blurted out, his voice a little pained.

“I couldn’t. As a former Black I was under much suspicion myself, and at the time was little more than a Junior Healer at St. Mungos. I had Nymphadora to worry about, and while I requested a formal trial for him, Bagshot, the Minister of the time, would not hear of it.” She breathed out a deep sigh. “Later, it was clear everyone would rather forget, and the Malfoys buried any attempt to give _anyone_ a trial under their gold. I rejoiced when he escaped; I only wish he had thought to come to me.”

Tonks was a little surprised. Mum had never spoken about Sirius being innocent to her. “You didn’ answer my question, Mum…” She hesitated, feeling remarkably upset that her Mum had kept it from her. “Why didn’t you tell _me?_ I thought he—I thought he was guilty all the way up until last June…”

“At first, you were too young. Later, there was nothing I could do—and by the time he had escaped, you were an Auror Trainee. You were, and still _are_ duty bound to report him.” Mum smiled stood up and gave her a hug, one she happily returned. “I am _proud_ that you know the difference between what is expected for you to do and doing what is _right._ They are rarely the same thing.”

“I know, Mum.” Tonks gave Mum a squeeze before letting go and shifting to look like Harry’s sister. “Today’s about Harry, though. I _do_ need you to tell me, but… it’s not important. It can wait.”

“I forget the location of my childhood home, conveniently just as Dumbledore reforms his little club? I wasn’t a member, Daughter, but I often acted as a healer for James and Sirius. I know it exists, and that you joined.” She shook her head and turned to Harry. “I’m sorry, Harry, I got caught up in my daughter there for a moment. Today is about you, and I apologise for my distraction.”

“No–no, it’s… that was nice. You… You love each other, and… and it’s nice.” He shifted uncomfortably, looking down. He seemed startled when Mum knelt in front of him and took his hands in hers.

“I understand that you don’t have anyone to speak with, Harry. No one that you can go to with questions. You are family, and if you will have me, I will listen to anything you say and treat you as my own.” She smirked and glanced at Tonks. “How could I not, when my own daughter has adopted you as a brother. Even if it was without my blessing; I certainly don’t remember having a son a week ago.”

Harry laughed and smiled. It was clear that he and Mum would get along just fine. 

Tonks settled back to watch as Harry started talking about school at Mum’s prompting. He didn’t tell her much about the adventures, but she was happy to encourage his academics. Even praising him for deciding to take _real_ Muggle studies beside the Grangers. All those GCSEs and A-Level things. 

Two hours later, after they had eaten and were finally leaving, Harry seemed more enthusiastic about school than she ever had. Mum had only had to express the tiniest degree of disappointment in his study habits, and praise him for his achievements, for his attitude to shift. It hurt to realise just how starved of affection Harry was, and it made it all the clearer how much he had been relying on his friends.

He would never have to rely solely on his friends while she was around. He might only be her second cousin something or other, but she would be the best Big Sister he could ask for. And now that she had met him, there was no chance Mum was letting go either.

–oOoOo–

Hermione was helping the twins put up a banner in one of the reclaimed sitting rooms when Sirius tapped her on the shoulder. She managed not to jump at his sudden arrival, but snickers from Fred—she was pretty sure it was Fred—made it clear they had seen him coming and hadn’t warned her.

“Hermione, ah, Hermione wants to ask you something. Head up to her.” He didn’t elaborate further and went on to join the party preparations. They were all certain Harry would come back without any issue, and Sirius was enthusiastic about making up for Harry’s lack of a birthday party with a celebration of his innocence.

She had, with a little difficulty, managed to convince them to set the party up somewhere he wouldn’t be arriving at, so if things went wrong they wouldn’t be rubbing it in his face. Not that she was worried—okay, she was worried. Mia was home early.

She walked out of the room as calmly as she could, but as soon as she was out of sight, she dashed up the stairs to their shared bedroom and rushed inside. Mia was still in disguise, and if she hadn’t helped Mia put it on, she wouldn’t have recognised her counterpart. It didn’t help that the normally strong girl was hyperventilating and trembling on the floor.

Hermione closed the door behind her quickly and knelt beside Mia. “Mia, what’s wrong?” She put a hand on Mia’s shoulder.  “Deep breaths, Mia. Come on, in and out.” She began to breathe exaggeratedly so Mia would copy her. Thankfully she did, but Mia didn’t help by trying to answer her question.

“Andromeda—Harry—Can’t. Can’t—” There wasn’t much coherent about what Mia said, but it was clear something had gone wrong. Hermione was getting more worried by the minute, and was focusing on not falling into the same panic that Mia had. Neither of them could be strong all the time, but they could be strong for each other when it was needed.

“Mia, focus. Just breathe—explain later—” Hermione cursed her voice for wavering but continued on anyway. “Stay with me Mia, just—” Mia looked up into Hermione’s eyes, tears forming at the edges, and whispered four words.

“I couldn’t do it.”

As the words sunk in, Hermione’s world wavered, and then went black.

**19th of September, 2007, Headmistresses’ Office, Hogwarts.**

“Hello, Miss Granger… it has been several years, but I pray this birthday of yours is a… happy one.” The portrait on the wall stares down at her, a morose expression on its face.

She doesn’t care. The headmistress will return soon, and not even she can fight the master of Hogwarts in her own tower.

“Did you know what Molly was doing to me?” She snaps at him as she fingers her wand. His _former_ wand.

The portrait hardly seems surprised as he responds. “I assure you, Miss Granger, I did not. I would never have condoned such… an abuse.”

_Those with power lie. Never trust them._

_Not even yourself._

“So, you can still lie, Headmaster, that is unfortunate. Not that I have any _better_ options.” Her eyes were burning as she stared at the portrait, the rubble of the door strewn all around her. “You let it happen anyway. You ordered it to begin.”

“I asked her to distract you from the loss of your parents, to prevent your grief from restraining Harry so that he could do what was–”

“So that he could die, therefore making Tom Riddle immortal and ensuring that the purebloods would reign supreme forever. Yes, yes. It was a wonderful plan, Headmaster.”

“No! I knew he would come back. Everything I did was to engineer that fate! I did all I could to save Harry. I sacrificed much, perhaps too much, to keep one boy alive.” The portrait glares down at her. They all were, though all but he remained blessedly silent. “I manipulated and controlled him, yes, but I never sent him off to die. I did all I could.”

“That only makes it even sadder.” She slams a heavy book down onto the table and flips it open to a single ritual. “Can you read, Headmaster?”

“… I can.”

There is a short delay before any more words were said.

“This—I… but…”

_Yes. Hurt. Regret. You deserve it._

“You could’ve removed the scar the day he received it. You could have prevented it all.” Hermione’s face stretches into a twisted mockery of a grin. “Your best is no better than the flailing of a new-born baby.”

“Where… where did you find this?”

“Oh, this? It’s a copy of a copy—one of the books Mundungus stole from Headquarters that year you sold me as a broodmare. Never could find the original, this one I salvaged from the Malfoys’ before I burnt them down.”

“Oh…” The portrait of Albus Dumbledore deflated, falling back into the chair in his painting looking horrified. “I… I don’t. I cannot–”

“You cannot atone, no. I am going back, Headmaster. I am going to save Harry, stop Riddle, and kill those that did this to me. You shouldn’t be too sad though, after all it’s only a few sacrifices for the Greater Good. Stopping Riddle so much sooner will save hundreds if not thousands of lives. All it will cost is a small family of red-headed _rapists_ losing theirs.”

“… I do not understand what you want from me, Miss Granger.”

_For you to live again, then die suffering._

“The ring. The only Horcrux whose defences I do not sufficiently understand how to breach is the ring. Tell me everything so that I don’t have to breach the protections with brute force and piles of corpses.”

“I… I believe you are on a dark path, Miss Granger. I only hope… I only hope your devotion to Mr Potter prevents you becoming what you wish to fight.” The portrait closes his eyes and sighs deeply. “The ring is located in the Gaunt Shack in Little Hangleton, behind numerous…”

Hermione listens attentively to the portrait’s words, taking as many notes as necessary and interrogating the painting for all she could garner. To her there was nothing more important than going back, and to do that properly she had to be prepared.

Nothing else mattered. Not even the red-headed boy she had mistaken for a Weasley on the way to the Headmistress’ office. She didn’t feel sad that she had done what she did. It would all come undone in under a year anyway.

 _He’s better dead. No one deserves to look like_ Him _._

She wouldn’t fail. She couldn’t.

**12th of August, 1995,  No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

“Hermione… Hermione… please, let it be like the others… wake up. Wake up.” 

The world was still blurry, but as she heard her name Hermione pushed herself upright. She—no, _She_ had killed a boy with flaming red hair for nothing more than looking like a Weasley. Like _Ron._ Her future self had sworn to kill all of them when she came back. Still feeling the echo of that promise to _never_ fail, a fear that had held sway over her for years—that was ever her Boggart…

She shook herself as she sat up, breathing heavily all the while. “I’m okay, Mia.” She forced out, not wanting to look her counterpart in the eye. Had Mia made the same promise? Was she going to murder the Weasleys once Harry was safe and Voldemort was dealt with? Was the only reason she hadn’t done anything to preserve the timeline?

Hermione pushed those thoughts aside. She needed to know about Harry. “Mia, what was it that went wrong? Is… is Ha–harry okay?” Her voice broke slightly; she didn’t know what to do if he wasn’t fine.

There were tears running down Mia’s cheeks, ruining the make-up they had used for her disguise, but she still looked surprised. “What? Harry—the trial went perfectly, he’s with Andromeda… Andy…”

“Then what was all that about?!” Hermione snapped, her worry evaporating and swiftly replaced with anger.

Mia reeled back, startled. “I… I—I was… I was supposed to introduce myself, as… as Hera. To talk with Andy, and acting—I couldn’t. I can’t talk to her without her knowing. I can’t. I can’t pretend to be someone else with Harry, with Andy.” Mia broke down crying. “I h–hated lying to–to Harry too, H–hermione.”

Her anger didn’t go away immediately, but after a few minutes of frustration, Hermione decided that there was no way Mia would have made the same promise her older self had. She would have to bring it up eventually, but she trusted Mia. _Mia_ _was not_ _evil._ A little vision of her insane future self wouldn’t change that.

Hermione enveloped Mia in a hug and let her cry herself out. Her shoulder became rather wet, and handling Mia’s crying wasn’t fun, but it was the right thing to do. Even if she was still a bit annoyed with Mia over making her think something bad had happened to Harry.

–oOoOo–

When Tonks brought him back through the Floo Harry was surprised there wasn’t anyone there waiting for him in the kitchen except Hermione. Well, Ni. Mia wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

“Harry!” Ni rushed him and enveloped him in a hug. She looked like she had been crying, and he happily embraced her back. “You took a long time. No one’s said anything—” Her eyes were sparkling, as they always did when she knew something others didn’t. “—It went okay, right? No problems?”

“Yeah, no problems. Andromeda was brilliant—completely innocent. Er, cleared of all charges that is.” 

“Really? You’ll have to tell me all about it—and her, Mia…” She glanced at Tonks. “Well, we’re curious. Especially if you approve of her!”

“You’re always curious!”

She huffed and let go of him, crossing her arms and giving him a glare. The smile on her face belied her exasperation, however. “Thank you taking care of him Tonks, he wasn’t any trouble, was he? He _always_ gets into something when we leave him alone… Basilisks, Dementors, Dragons… Giant spiders.” She shook her head and grinned brightly.

“Hey! You helped with the Dragon, and the Basilisk!”

Tonks just laughed. “Nah, no trouble. Except the whole thing got moved up by three hours. Luckily, Madam Bones told us, and the Regent sent Mum a letter.”

Hermione gave Harry a sidelong glance and nodded. She suddenly grabbed his arm and started dragging him along. “Come on, this way.”

“Huh?” He wasn’t entirely sure why he was being dragged about, but by the look on her face Tonks did. Neither of them seemed interested in telling him, however. They went up the stairs to the first floor and went to a door he hadn’t been through before. It wasn’t a bedroom, as far as he knew, but with how big the house was he really didn’t have any idea what was behind it.

Hermione knocked on the door three times, turned to him with a grin, and practically slammed it open.

Beyond was everyone in the house—Sirius, Mrs Weasley, Fred, George, Ginny, Mia, even Ron was waiting there, and they hadn’t spoken to each other in days. “Surprise!” they all yelled. There was a moment of pause afterwards, before Tonks cleared her throat.

“Cleared of all charges.”

Fred and George rushed forward and grabbed Harry, picking him up. “Harry Potter! He got off!” They cried as they hoisted him onto a chair in the centre of the room. Everyone except Molly was laughing at his predicament as he struggled in their grip. Once he was settled in his seat, Mia came up and gave him a hug, while the others all started talking.

“You were gone quite a long time, Harry. Arthur sent me a note saying it had been moved earlier, _where were you?_ ” Mrs Weasley asked as she wrung her hands. 

_“He got off! He got off!”_

“He was with me, Mrs Weasley, and Mum. We spent the rest of the morning chatting and goin’ over some stuff.” She turned to Sirius with a slightly concerned look on her face. “Er, she… she knows we’re here. Just not the name of here, or _where_ here is. She remembers forgettin’ her childhood home.”

“And! And she believes you’re innocent, Sirius. She always did.” Harry tried to get up from his seat to go to Sirius but found himself stuck to the chair. “What?”

“Sticking charm, mate. Can’t let you serve yourself today!” Fred—or George—said, “Bring on the cake!”

“That’s not good, we should—”

“We can tell Dumbledore about Andromeda later, Molly. Let Harry have his party; a few hours won’t change anything.” Sirius glared at Molly before lifting a slice of cake from the platter Ginny was carrying floating it over to Harry. “Enjoy, this is… well, I hope you enjoy Harry. We didn’t get to celebrate your birthday properly after all.”

 _“He got off! He got off!”_ As soon as Harry received his cake, the twins had started chanting again.

Molly didn’t look happy, but she did nod and acquiesce to Sirius. After, she turned to the twins: “Enough! Fred, George, stop!” They laughed first, but they did stop with their chant.

Harry thanked Molly and Ginny for the cake and watched as everyone settled around the room. Mia ended up sat in the chair on his left, and Sirius was on his right. Ni didn’t seem to want to separate at all and had sat armrest of his chair. Everyone else except Ron settled on one of the two settees. Ron was still avoiding him and found a chair as far away as he could and was devouring his way through an overly large portion of cake.

The room itself felt odd. It was just very out of place compared to the rest of the house. From the wide red and gold banner that now proclaimed ‘ _He Got Off!’_ and the Gryffindor colours scattered throughout, it must have taken a herculean effort to set up. Nothing in this house wanted to change away from its drab and dreary colour scheme; not even the bathroom tiles.

He wasn’t allowed to get up from his chair until after he had finished a second slice of cake—and it was wonderful cake—but once he had Fred pulled out a pack of Exploding Snap and they settled in to play. Sirius won so brutally in the first game that he was denied the right to continue, while Tonks bowed out simply from her own clumsiness.

Things escalated slightly when Molly found that the Twins had managed to sneak in some Firewhiskey and drank it to belch fire. Surprisingly Sirius had Kreacher banish it, but it didn’t slow down their antics by much. Ron left once his hair turned green, but Ginny stuck around even when they made her featherlight and started tossing her up into the air. 

It was late afternoon, after Arthur returned from work that things started to settle down a bit. Molly had left with Arthur to inform Dumbledore that Andy was aware that they were staying in Grimmauld, Mia had gone back to her room citing how tired she was, and Ni was talking with Sirius and Tonks. 

He’d had something he wanted to ask the twins for a while, since he’d heard a little about what they would do with the money he had given them in the future. It had sounded like their store was a great success, but there was something that was concerning him.

“Hey, Fred, George?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“I’ve been wondering—and I know you probably listened in on the meeting so you can guess why… but, what do you two think about… love potions?”

They both hummed and Fred—probably Fred—scratched his chin. “Haven’t got any plans for them yet. They’re banned at Hogwarts so we can’t be brewing them.”

Harry shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. What do you _think_ about them?”

“Huh, What? They’re just, well, potions? Kinda wish they weren’t banned, would’ve made the Yule Ball more interesting…” Fred turned to Harry with a grin. “Hey, did you want some? I’m sure we can whip something up, who’s it your interested in?”

Harry grimaced, his face turning pale in disgust. “No one,” he shook his head and looked away, “I was just curious. I’m going to talk to Hermione now.”

“Right, Harry…” The grin in Fred’s voice was palpable, but Harry didn’t turn around.

He felt sick. It had taken a while to internalise what the potions meant, but eventually he had figured it out. He hated the Imperius curse and how it tried to make him do things he didn’t want to do; now that he had considered it, the idea of someone using a potion to do the same was disgusting. The idea of Hermione having that happen to her, that Mia _had_ that… happen to her future self. Confusing as it was, he felt awful about it. He—the future Harry—should have noticed. Should have done something.

If Fred and George thought it was okay to use love potions, and by the way they had started talking about them for their joke store behind him, they did, he wasn’t sure he wanted to support them. He’d give them a chance, take a leaf out of his Mum’s book. Show them what it felt like to be manipulated like that and why it was wrong. He didn’t want to take his money back, he had given it in good faith and he still thought that people would need to laugh with what was happening. He also wasn’t even sure if he could, really. It had been a gift.

So, doing what his Mum had done to Sirius. He’d need the Hermiones’ help though; he could brew if Snape wasn’t there, but this would need to work perfectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One hundred thousand words... Hard to believe this is my first multi-chaptered story at times, that it's my first real writing project, or even how little I understood my own native language at the start.  
> I barely registered that tenses existed when I wrote the first chapter, and that's hardly the worst of my crimes against linguistics.


	15. Ch. XV - Hermione And A Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I very much wanted to finish summer in this chapter, but as it grew to exceed 14k words it just became unfeasible. I don’t mind long chapters, per se, but as my length goal is ‘above 5,000 words’ I felt it would be out of place. Triple that is a bit much.
> 
> Next chapter will be the final chapter of summer and the last chapter for a while. I need to re-read OotP, make a list of events, and re-do my outline with consideration to the changes that have occurred since I started. Several things have happened out of order from my original plans and I need to account for that.
> 
> Many thanks to Tyrannic_Puppy for providing comments and beta work on this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: Did we only learn of the sole female main character’s first kiss two books late and second-hand? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.

**13th of August, 1995, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

“Right, er, Hermione I—I would like… no, that’s terrible. Hermione, would you… no.” Harry sighed and glared at himself in the mirror, ignoring the snickering her could hear echoing in the bathroom. “Bloody hell, why can’t this be simple, it’s… it’s Hermione.”

“Because you’re trying too hard, dearie.” The mirror giggled at him. “Be yourself and fix that hair of yours. It’s a mess.”

Harry glared at the mirror, grumbling that his hair is always a mess, and went about finishing his morning routine. The mirror had only told him the same thing Tonks had, well. Big Sis… Tonksie and Aunt Andy. Why Tonks had to pick such a silly nickname he didn’t know, but she was growing ever more insistent that he use it. Even to the point of scolding him if he just called her Tonks, and Merlin help him if he called her Nymphadora.

None of that was really helping him with his predicament of talking to Hermione however. He’d put it off on the day of the trial because he was tired, and now he was feeling nervous. But he had promised. He’d also run out of excuses. Tonks had threatened terrible things if he didn’t tell the Hermiones how he felt about them, even if he wasn’t sure if he felt differently about either of them or liked them both just as much.

With one last attempt to fix his hair, Harry decided he was as good as he was going to get and went to dress for the day. His teeth were clean—especially important around Hermione—and he had scrubbed himself as best he could. There was probably magic you were supposed to use to clean yourself in a house like this, but really, he was just happy to have access to a bath and unlimited hot water. He never had that with the Dursleys, and at Hogwarts there were only showers. Unless you were a prefect… which he wouldn’t be.

Ron would. Despite Ron getting into just as much trouble as he did, sometimes even more. It’s not like Ron was responsible, or good in class or exams. Dean would be a better pick, or even Neville. Neville was a bit… not cowardly, but he didn’t stand up for himself. At the very least he would take it seriously, unlike Ron. Harry frowned as he thought of how Ron would be spending time with Hermione alone as a prefect, even if she didn’t want to.

With a sigh he pushed that aside; what was important was that he… that he stopped being a coward. Didn’t put things off. That he talked to Hermione, that he did something. Voldemort was more important, he knew that. All of them knew that. For once, though, he was going to be selfish; it wasn’t as if him being selfless had helped Cedric.

Harry squinted and took a deep breath, focusing on the feeling of flying. Of the wind rushing past his face. One step in front of the other, and he marched his way to Hermione’s room.

–oOoOo–

Opening the door to Harry was always a welcome sight, but he seemed nervous for some reason. Wringing his hands and fidgeting more than usual. Even so, his eyes were piercing, and he seemed determined about something. It wasn’t really what she had expected that day; she and Mia had planned to go to him and prepare for the ritual to cleanse his scar, or to start up duelling practice with him. With the trial over there were less people hovering around Harry, and it should be possible to sneak him away to the dungeons for a few hours a day. Hopefully.

“Er, can I come in?”

“Of course!” She beamed at him. As she closed the door behind him she spotted a trail of red hair rushing away; Ginny. Undoubtedly Molly would know about her… impropriety soon enough. Not that she could do anything or had any right to do anything. Or maybe Ginny would just tell the twins, and they would spout innuendos at her for a few days. Again. If it wasn’t for the fact that she knew her parents wouldn’t approve of her having a boy in her room as often as she did, she’d think they were all crazy. Well, Mum probably wouldn’t mind too much, but Dad would throw a fit. Hopefully they were doing alright in Australia. It was going to be a long year without even being able to write to them.

Hermione didn’t let her thoughts about her parents bring her down as Harry came into the room. They were safe, and that was what was important. She could make up for lost time later—and introduce Mia to them, which would be… interesting. Mum hadn’t ever wanted a second child, but Dad had. Hopefully they wouldn’t take it too badly.

She sat down on her bed since Mia was occupying the writing desk; sometimes they shared, but it was usually more trouble than it was worth. “What did you want to talk about, Harry?”

“Um, well… I wanted to talk about, er, You. You and Mia, and… and Mia’s confession.” He continued to fidget as he spoke, but his gaze held hers and there was something in his eyes that was enrapturing. She simply couldn’t look away, even as she learned the meaning of the phrase _having butterflies in her stomach_. She had felt nervous before, plenty of times, but this was different.

Hermione barely noticed as the scratching of Mia’s quill suddenly stopped at Harry’s words. “What… confession?”

Harry turned away to look at Mia and Hermione couldn’t help feeling a little sad he wasn’t staring at her anymore. “You… you said that you, that Hermione—you and Ni, were… Bollocks.”

“Language, Harry.” She didn’t even register that she had spoken until he glanced at her and she blushed under his renewed gaze.

“Sorry, Ni.” Harry sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m making a mess of this. I meant—you… I want. Tonks said I shouldn’t hold back thinking that I’ll… upset one of you because you can’t, that you… I like you, Hermione. You’re my best friend, and…”

Hermione stood up from the bed and clasped her hands over her chest. Her heart was beating like crazy. She could hardly believe what Harry was saying—she remembered the slip Mia had made, saying that they were, that they had fallen in love with Harry. When Harry hadn’t acted back then she had though he had missed it, not noticed in the rush of everything he had learned that day, but he had remembered. He was here, he was saying that he, Harry Potter, liked her. That he liked the bossy bookworm, the overprotective, overzealous, plain best-friend, Hermione… sure, Mia had said some things about the future, that he had… but it was always abstract. Not really something tangible. This was Harry, her Harry, confessing.

“Okay. One more time…” Harry muttered before taking a deep breath. He glanced between them, having trouble deciding where to look. “I like you, Hermione. Both of you; you’re both Hermione. The girl I chased after a Troll for, the one who helped me deal with a Basilisk, the one who cared enough to… I’m sorry about the Firebolt—No, that’s not… I am, I just.” He rubbed his forehead in frustration. “I want to be more than friends, more than best friends… I just don’t know what you want, and… how you want to handle this.” He sagged backwards and leaned against the door, fidgeting more and more as he watched for their reaction.

Hermione could barely breathe. He had confessed, but he had pointed something out that she hadn’t considered. There were two of them, and he didn’t, wouldn’t, treat them differently. How were they going to resolve that? She wouldn’t—

“Harry,” Mia interrupted Hermione’s train of thought with a sad voice, “I… you don’t need to worry. My mind, my… what I’ve seen, I’m not ready for a relationship. I can’t be. Ni—no, Hermione, is, I think.” Mia smiled and Hermione could tell she wasn’t telling the whole truth. She was holding something back. There was a reason beyond just letting her have Harry that Mia was standing back, but Hermione couldn’t tell what it was. “So, if you two want to, I’m happy for you. I love you Harry, and I want you to be happy—and there is no one, not a single person in this world, who I could be happier to see you with than Hermione.”

Harry nodded at Mia slowly, taking his time to understand what she said. After a few moments of silence he pushed himself off of the door and walked up to her. He took one of her hands in his and looked her in the eye, that burning determination still there and making her insides melt. “Hermione Jane Granger, Ni, would you… will you be my girlfriend?”

Her face hurt from how wide she was grinning, unable to stop herself as it stretched from ear to ear. “Of course, Harry. I would love to be your girlfriend.”

His answering smile only made her heart beat even faster as her hands intertwined with his.

**14th of August, 1995, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

Hermione was his girlfriend. She was _his girlfriend._ They hadn’t kissed yet, not properly. She’d kissed his cheek and he’d done the same back, but they hadn’t kissed properly. He wasn’t really sure when he was supposed to do it. If he should wait a few days, ask her first, or try and find a special moment. With how she’d been with Krum he wasn’t even sure if he would be her first kiss or not; he didn’t really want to know, either.

Harry could accept she’d been with Krum because he had been dumb and not asked her to the ball, but he didn’t really want to think about it. It wasn’t really important either, she was with him and he was with her, it would be silly to get jealous over something like that when they were together.

He just wished he knew what to do.

With a sigh he stepped into the open room Sirius had set up for them late the previous evening. Apparently Molly had been complaining to him about Harry spending time in the Hermiones’ room, and he even agreed with her a little. Or he was just placating her. Apparently this new room had a chastity ward set up on it, along with privacy wards to keep the Weasleys out, so nothing untoward could happen. Not that it would have anyway. He wasn’t like that, and Hermione…

Hermione, Ni, was sitting in a chair with her legs curled up to her chest, reading a book. She was wearing jeans and a light jumper, her hair barely out of her face as it curled its way out from whatever she had tried to do to it. He didn’t know why he was staring so hard, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her like that before but looking at her he could just picture her looking up from her book, eyes sparkling, and smiling at him before she went back to reading.

It was silly. It was completely, utterly, ridiculous. And when she did just that, gave him that little smile, he grinned back as his heart hammed in his chest. A simple smile shouldn’t be able to do that to him. Unlike his in his imagination however, she didn’t go back to reading. She put her book down and shuffled over in her seat to make room for him.

“Hi,” He said awkwardly as he sat down in the armchair beside her. It was barely big enough for both of them and he could feel her pressing into his side.

Hermione’s quiet “Hi, Harry,” and her resting her head on his shoulder was the only response he got for a while. When he tentatively put an arm around her she sighed contentedly and looked up at him. “Was there a reason you interrupted me, or did you just want to see me?”

“Er, both?”

She laughed, twisted, and hugged him tightly. “Well, I’m glad I’m at least on your list of priorities, boyfriend.” Her smile was radiant, and Harry was so engrossed by her presence that he completely forgot that Mia was in the room with them.

Mia coughed, which had both of them blushing as they turned to look at her. “Was it important, Harry? If it’s not, I could go. Or… if it’s private, I could still go.” It was sad, in a way, seeing Mia sitting by herself. Like a little bit of his heart was hurting because he couldn’t make her happy too since he was with Ni.

He didn’t like the fact that he had to treat them differently, that they weren’t both _just_ Hermione to him. That there was Ni, his girlfriend, and Mia, his best friend. He liked them both, he wanted Mia to be happy too, but he couldn’t… he didn’t want to give up what he had just gotten with Ni. With Hermione.

“No, you don’t need to go. Er, never think that I don’t want you around, Hermione, Mia…” He rubbed at Ni’s shoulder absently. “Erm, I sort of meant to talk to you two, maybe Sirius, about a couple of ideas yesterday but…”

“But we got side-tracked.” Ni answered happily, “And it was a wonderful, wonderful, distraction.” She snuggled in a little closer and he blushed even harder.

Mia put a hand over her mouth to smother her laughter. “I can’t blame you, and… I don’t feel jealous, Harry, Hermione. I really don’t. Seeing you two like that makes me happy. It means things are going _right_ , that me being here isn’t pointless.” She shook her head and smiled wistfully. “Tell us what you came up with then, unless you want to spend all day cuddling again.”

After giving Mia a rueful glare Harry briefly went over his idea to potion the Twins to show them what was wrong with love potions, and why he wanted to do it. They both looked disgusted when he pointed out that it was _his_ money that would fund the Weasley Wizard Wheezes line of love potions if they didn’t do something.

“I can’t say I like the idea, Harry. But I can see why—” Mia was cut off abruptly by Ni,

“It’s disgusting, is what it is. I know Lily did it to Sirius, and you want to be closer to her, but… it’s still horrible, Harry.”

Harry was a little surprised Ni was the one to take a stronger stance against the idea. He’d expected Mia to not like it, and Ni to disapprove a little, but it seemed like it was the other way around. “Hermione…” he tried, only for him to get interrupted by Mia.

“No, the idea _does_ have merit, Hermione. The twins aren’t bad people, they don’t… they weren’t involved. They’re bullies when they go too far with their pranks, and don’t take their own—or other people’s—safety seriously, but they’re not _bad._ They can learn from their mistakes and don’t do things if they know that they’re wrong. Either from their own experience or because someone they respect has told them they shouldn’t. They just don’t think of pranks the same way. They also class the potions as pranks, not… not something _wrong_.

“So, we could do it this way—and we follow it up by Harry telling them why, what he thought, and saying he didn’t want to be associated with the potions, they would take it to heart. I think. We would need to do it properly, safely—some kind of anti-lust effect as well so they don’t do anything they regret too much, or hurt anyone, and a strict way to limit the duration so it only lasts a day…” Mia bit her lip and turned her gaze to the floor. “The worst part would be testing. I don’t know what the potions would be, as I have never looked into this, nor… nor have I ever wanted to.”

Ni had started nodding along to Mia’s points part way through, and her death grip on him had waned somewhat as Mia defended his idea. “I… are you sure, Mia?” When she nodded back to Ni, Ni sighed. “Alright, I’m… not sure I like it, but I agree it would work.” Ni let go of Harry and went over to Mia to grab her hand holding it tight. “Nothing, not a single thing, will be tested on you Mia. Not one thing.”

Mia looked up from the floor into Ni’s eyes, and relief flooded her face. “Thank you, Hermione.” She whispered, and any worry Harry had about his relationship with Ni straining things between the girls washed away. Ni had tried to defend Mia, and Mia knew Ni cared about her. They were in this together.

Harry got up and walked over to take Mia’s other hand, giving her a reassuring smile. It only lasted a moment as she quickly freed both her hands and pulled them into a hug. “I have the _best_ friends.” She murmured.

“Great, um.” Harry decided it would be better to leave his next idea until later. Let this one settle before he got them _both_ mad at him. “We should… make a list of what’s important for the plan? Like the anti-lust stuff and time-limits? Make sure we know what we’re doing, and such.”

“Good idea, I’ll grab some potions books. Be back in a minute.” Ni ran off out of the room after giving both of them a quick hug and Harry chuckled lightly. He didn’t expect that part of Hermione to ever change.

Mia just laid out a fresh sheet of parchment and started writing. A few minutes later Ni returned, and they laid out the basics of their plan to fix the twins’ perception of potions. It wouldn’t be quick, or soon, but they’d do it. They’d make a little bit of a difference.

**15th of August, 1995, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

“Bloody Hell! That hurts!” Harry, having just failed to dodge Mia’s hex, fell to the floor clutching his leg. It felt like it was on fire, twisted inside out, and all floppy like his arm had been after Lockhart got to it. Which was _really_ weird because it was completely stiff.

“Dodge better, Harry.” Mia merely stared at him, before tossing some spells in Ni’s direction which Ni managed to dodge and block. He’d never thought of levitating things in the way of hexes and curses before, but it definitely worked.

The fact that Ni was laughing at him as she danced around the spells only made him feel worse. Until one grazed her arm, and with a yelp she fell to the floor tied up in conjured ropes. There was even a gag covering her mouth, smothering her protests.

“You got distracted, Hermione.” Mia sighed. “You aren’t doing badly, Harry. Not for your first day. You’ll get a lot better with practice, and we will be practicing plenty.” Her eyes lit up as she glanced at Ni. “You should’ve seen Hermione when she first started, she barely lasted a few seconds, and I wasn’t casting nearly as much back then.”

“Er,” Harry winced, trying to ignore the pain in his leg, “how’s this compared to… your best, then?”

“Hmm? Oh, I went all out this time.” With a swish of her wand Mia countered the hex on his leg and it blessedly stopped screaming at him. It still ached a bit, but it wasn’t really painful anymore. “Wanted to see how you did; which is, like I said, not badly.”

“Mmmfph!” Ni cried pitifully and glared at them.

Mia smirked and vanished the ropes. “I guess you can cross that off the list, Hermione?”

Ni blushed beautifully as Harry went over to help her up. “Um, what was that about? Do you know?”

Ni just mumbled that it wasn’t important and gave him a kiss on the cheek as they got ready to go another round. Another round of practicing dodging without being allowed to retaliate. Something Mia had said he had emphasised as being important in the future; protect yourself first, then learn to fight back. Make staying protected instinctual, and retaliation thought out, so you don’t hurt people you didn’t mean to and don’t get too reckless.

He wasn’t sure it would really be his style of fighting, but it certainly beat sitting around all day. Not that he didn’t enjoy sitting around holding Hermione all day, because that was wonderful, but they couldn’t do it all the time. Even if he kind of wanted to. Harry tried to focus on the lesson but imagining relaxing with Ni and the kiss she had just given him had him on the floor even faster than the last time.

“Up, Harry. We’ve got another hour of this before Sirius is free and we can perform the ritual to cleanse your scar.”

“Er, about that…”

“It’s perfectly safe, we already told you that it was originally made to cleanse possessions from people. That it works on objects is just an added bonus.” Mia twirled her wand and gestured for him to stand again.

“That’s not what I meant. I, I kind of don’t want my scar cleansed?” At both Ni and Mia’s horrified expressions, he quickly tried to explain. “No, no. I mean not _yet._ Voldemort showed himself at the ministry at the end of the year, right? He exposed himself? The ritual doesn’t take long, and we would have plenty of time to do it, get to London and finish him there. It’s perfect; we don’t know where he would be any sooner—”

“No, we’re getting your scar cleansed. I’ve thought about maintaining the timeline over and over again, Harry, it’s not worth it.” Mia glared at him, but he wasn’t deterred.

“It’s my scar, and I’ve had it for fourteen years. It hurts, it’s unpleasant, it’s disgusting, but it won’t kill me. We can get rid of it at any time, because we know how. This—we don’t _get_ another opportunity, not without people dying. We have to try.”

“I… are you sure Harry?” Ni stepped up next to him, brushing a hand across his forehead, tracing his scar. “I’m not afraid of you having it, I know you are in control, but I would prefer it if it wasn’t there.”

“I’m sure.”

“This is a terrible idea, we have the time and resources to do the ritual today, and we should. Please, listen to me, Harry.” Mia was begging, her eyes shining as she pleaded with him to change his mind, but Harry was certain his idea was worth the risk.

Ni glanced at Mia and back to him. “I think,” she said as she grasped his hand tightly, “that you’re being noble. That you’re trying to make sure as many people get out of this okay as you can. To end this war as soon as you can.” She smiled softly, blushing slightly. “And that’s who you are. You always try to save people, save everyone. You don’t even think about it, and it’s part of why I love you.” She put her forehead against his and closed her eyes.

After a moment’s hesitation Harry pulled back, and then leaned forward and kissed her. On the lips. Her eyes opened wide for a moment before they fluttered closed, and she pressed back lightly. Their noses bumped, and they pulled away. Separating after barely a moment. It had been short and clumsy, but also brilliant.

He had forgotten about everything except Hermione in his arms, her eyes staring into his, the feel of his lips pressing onto his own. Until the moment was shattered by Mia’s shout.

“NO! No! That’s what gets you killed, it’s why you died!” Mia stomped her foot and glared at the two of them. Her hand was clenched into a fist around her wand and she looked very, very angry. “Why?! Why do you always have to be this way?! I can’t—You need to do the ritual, get it out. Don’t be reckless, don’t keep it. It’s important. It is.” She looked at them both with tears in her eyes. “ _Please._ ”

Harry hesitated. Mia getting so angry, getting so upset, almost made him waver. But he wasn’t doing this for him. It wasn’t because he wanted to do it, but because it was the right thing. Ni was right. He was trying to win as soon as he could, but not just so he could save more people. That wasn’t what he was thinking about at all, really. He wanted Voldemort to stop being important, to stop threatening him. For Mia to have finished her task and be free, for him to be able to date Hermione without worrying about genocidal maniacs.

He wasn’t doing this because he was being reckless. He had reasons, and they were important. Most of all, it was his decision.

“No, I won’t.”

Mia stared at him for a moment before she fled in tears. Harry tried to chase after her, but Ni held him back.

“She won’t want either of us right now, I’ll ask Sirius or Tonks to check on her.” She nestled into his side, her head drooping. “It’s the right thing, even if I don’t like it. Stopping Volde—Riddle is important. More important than any of us, but I don’t think she can see that.”

“I didn’t want to hurt her.” Harry whispered, holding onto Hermione tightly, trying to reassure himself he hadn’t done something irreparable. “It’s not like I enjoy having my scar either, it’s… just...”

“I understand, Harry.” She wrinkled her nose and snorted in a very unladylike manner. “Harry, you stink. How’d you get all sweaty that fast?”

“Hey! You’re no bed of roses either right now!”

She laughed for a moment, then pushed herself out of his arms, running her hands down them to his hands which she held onto. “Not the perfect first kiss, was it? All smelly and sweaty, and… and upsetting Mia.”

“I could have found a better moment…”

She smiled at him. “It could have been more perfect, but we have plenty of time to practice.” She leaned in and gave him another kiss. This time it lasted longer, and Harry felt remarkably out of breath afterwards. Even so, it couldn’t have lasted that long, could it?

They stood quietly for a few minutes, just staring at each other’s faces and revelling in their closeness before Ni dragged him off to find either Sirius or Tonks. Harry didn’t like that they couldn’t do it themselves, but he’d listen to his girlfriend’s advice. She knew how to handle Mia being upset better than he did.

–oOoOo–

Sirius walked up to the girls’ bedroom and hoped, truly hoped that it wasn’t what he thought it was. He was happy his godson had a girlfriend, but it didn’t seem they had realised from the timing that the other Granger might have gotten so upset because she was jealous. There hadn’t been signs of that before, and he had thought they were mature enough to handle it, but it was a concern.

It was strange, hoping a teenage girl was upset because Harry was being reckless and insane rather than because she was jealous. Harry wasn’t happy he’d taken her side after hearing their arguments. _Nothing_ was worth the risk to Harry. Not even winning this bloody war.

He rapped his knuckles on the door, disabling the privacy wards as he did so. “Hermione, it’s Sirius. Can I come in?”

“Go away.” Her muffled reply came along with a stifled sniffle. Within seconds, the privacy wards had started to rise again. It was infuriating that she could do that.

He ripped down the protections on the door, pulling off all of the girls own wards. “No, I’m coming in. This is _serious_ ; Harry’s being reckless, and I need a sane opinion.” He pushed the door open and saw Hermione lying on the bed, wrapped up in a blanket, sobbing.

“Don’ wan’ to talk.”

“Tough. I’m going to need help to change their minds, or at least someone to figure out the best way to tell them _‘I Told You So’_ when something goes wrong, hopefully not dangerously—” It better not get Harry hurt, or he’d be after the other Hermione’s head for supporting Harry’s particular brand of foolhardiness. “—but it’s going to happen. There’s no way it won’t. Things won’t stay the same, I know that.” He shook his head and gritted his teeth. “They should know that.”

Hermione pushed herself upright and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. She nodded slightly but didn’t make any noise outside of another sniffle.

“It is a little… strange, though.” He noted that she looked more puzzled than angry, so he didn’t try to rush out the rest of his thoughts. “Not their plan, everything I’ve heard makes me thing that’s purely my Godson. My stupid, reckless, Gryffindor godson.” He breathed out a sigh and conjured a chair to sit in. “Why couldn’t he have been a Ravenclaw, or even a Hufflepuff? They _never_ do such stupid things!”

Hermione laughed faintly. “You’ll change your mind once you meet Luna, she’s just as brave as the rest of us.” A smile worked its way onto her face for a moment, before fading. “Maybe not as reckless, but she’s the one who came up with the plan to ride Thestrals. Which, for most of us were still _invisible._ A plan worthy of a Gryffindor.”

“You like this Luna, then?” He remembered most of what she’d told him about the Lovegood girl; Xeno’s daughter, a little batty, loves her father’s Quibbler magazine, and something about strange creatures.

She nodded and he relaxed a little. Distracting her seemed to be working, but that’s not what he really wanted to do. “Can you tell me why you reacted so strongly? You’ve always seemed very… collected. Calm.”

“It, well… I, _she_ , told Harry something—something she regretted saying, that I never wanted to say. That he had a _Saving People Thing_ , where he had to do something, be there, go out and rescue someone if they were in danger!” She threw an arm out, gesturing grandly as she got louder. “To see Hermione say that, to see Ni basically say the same thing when Harry is trying to _sacrifice himself?_ It hurt. I… I watched him die, you know.”

Sirius did know. He’d heard her say it before, and he’d seen it again and again in his dreams. From the first night she told him how Harry had died, he had nightmares about it. Harry jumping in front of a curse, to save a girl controlled into abandoning him. His side ripped out, bleeding, apologising, dying, his eyes going dark, Harry dead in the crib, James quietly leaning against the wall unbreathing, Lily with her eyes staring unblinkingly—

Suddenly his arms were full of _girl,_ and her pulled her to him, clinging for dear life as a sob forced its way out of his chest. His breathing was hard and fast, and he tried desperately to focus on the sound of her voice as he struggled to regain control of himself.

He didn’t know how long it took before he felt he could let go, releasing Hermione from his death grip. When he finally did, she fell back onto the floor and started hugging her knees.

“You understand, don’t you?” She looked so _small_ curled up like that. Nothing like the strong young woman he’d come to know; it was a stark reminder that she was just _fifteen._ “Why I reacted so badly?”

“Yes,” he croaked, “Yes, I do.”

“We’re not going to be able to change his mind. But! he’ll need Occlumency to hold back the visions. To stop it ruining his life. We’ll have to force him to take it seriously. The glasses won’t work for this”

He nodded and closed his eyes. He was tired, and he so desperately wanted a drink, but he’d already made that decision. “You know, when I came in, I was worried you were jealous.”

“I’m not.” She protested weakly.

“I know, you didn’t have such silly concerns. They were _Sirius.”_

Peeking up at her he watched as she rolled her bloodshot eyes and felt like he’d won something. A tiny bit of levity in amongst the pain. It helped, at least, to take the edge off.

“We’ll cleanse the ring tonight. I put it off because we ran low on moonwashed water. I wanted what was left for Harry.”

Sirius sucked in a deep breath; he felt awful. He’d be of no use for something like that, he hated having to rely on teenagers for so much. “Right, one ritual of doom then.” He forced a grin onto his face; it wouldn’t do to have her try to shoulder his burdens too. “I’ll sit that one out; I was never any good at them.” He stood up and brushed himself off. “You good now?”

She paused, uncurled herself and splayed out on the floor. “No, but I’ll be alright. Go tease them about having their first kiss in a dungeon or something, you nosy dog.”

He pushed the door open with a genuine laugh, quickly shifting into padfoot and bounding down the corridor to find his godson. She had just given him a brilliant early Christmas present, and he couldn’t wait to make use of it.

–oOoOo–

It was just after dinner that Mia approached them again. They were in the library, as he and Ni had settled in to finish off his last bit of summer homework, his divination dream diary. It wasn’t surprising that Hermione was refusing to let him bluster his way through it, even though she derided the subject at every opportunity. A bit frustrating, however.

Mia walked up to them carrying a fairly full bag, and If she had been crying, there wasn’t any evidence of it anymore. She didn’t look happy with them, however. “Harry, Hermione,” her voice was cold, and it hurt to hear her speaking to him like that. “if we’re not going to… do what we should, we’re getting the ring out of the way. Today.”

“Mia? Maybe we should wait? Until you’re—” Hermione stepped forward, reaching out to take Mia’s hand, but she was swatted away.

“No! We’re doing it _now._ I put it off because we didn’t have enough—” Mia closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “No, now. No more delays.” Without missing a beat, she grabbed their arms roughly, and Harry suddenly found himself squeezed violently. As if the entire world had been reduced to a tiny tube and he was being sucked through it.

When the sensation passed he staggered and bumped into Hermione, who looked better off than he felt, but not by much. He had to cling to her to stop himself falling over, and if Mia had let go it probably wouldn’t have been enough anyway.

“The hell was that?!”

“Apparition. Side-along is always terrible, and it gets worse with more people. Come on, the ritual room is this way.” Mia let go of them and started marching down the decrepit and dusty hallway. He recognised it as being near the duelling chamber they had used that morning, but to get there they had just sneaked past everyone and gone down the stairs by the kitchen.

“Why did we apparate? Couldn’t we have just done what we did earlier?” Harry asked, feeling quite sick after being forcibly apparated.

Ni grumbled beside him, he couldn’t catch most of it but from what he could hear she was agreeing with him. Apparition was _awful._ He couldn’t understand why the twins did it so much.

“Because Molly is meeting with Arthur and Dumbledore in the kitchen and we would get caught.” Mia snapped at him, barely twisting her head to shoot a quick glare. “Sirius is keeping an eye on them and will send Kreacher if they start looking for us.” 

“Right, okay.” Harry huffed. Mia shouldn’t be that angry, it was _his_ choice, his decision. It wasn’t her scar, and he was the one who would handle the problems that came from it, if there were any. She wasn’t his boss.

He gave Ni a short glance and seeing her frowning he offered her his hand. Her face flickered into a smile for a moment as she clasped his hand with hers, but she quickly turned back to Mia and began frowning again.

“I’ve already got everything set up, Harry you won’t be participating. Too much of a risk of Riddle noticing if you do, or some kind of resonance happening with the Horcrux. You’ll be sitting in a marked corner, where your magic can’t interfere.”

“He’s my enemy, I should—!”

“No.” Mia stopped at the door to a room, tapping her wand on the wood of the door. After a few taps it opened, and she turned to face him. Her eyes bore into him, hard as steel and burning fiercely. “You do _not_ know anything about rituals. Not how they work, not how sympathetic magic affects them, not how to participate, not how to work the runes. You _cannot_ take part. You are here to watch, because yes, he’s _your_ enemy. Just like he’s mine, and Hermione’s.

“I offered the chance to be here to Sirius, because he has that right too. He declined. I knew you wouldn’t. I also know you enough that it was obvious you would argue with me to take part, but you _will not._ Either you sit quietly and watch without interfering, or I grab Hermione when you aren’t looking and do it without you even knowing.”

Harry was about to argue when Hermione forcibly turned his head to look at her. “No, Harry,” she said as she shook her head, “we’ve done it before. I’ll be—” she bit her lip all of a sudden, before starting again. “ _We’ll_ be fine; it’s not hard, or dangerous, and she’s right. You _don’t_ know how rituals work.” She smiled softly and gave him a short, chaste, kiss before letting go and stepping away.

Harry sighed. He didn’t like it, but he’d listen and stay out of the way. Unless it looked like something was going wrong. “Fine,” it came out more of a grunt than normal speech, but Mia’s curt nod showed she at least believed he would behave.

He followed them into the room and sat on a cushion in a corner behind a weird squiggly line cut into the floor. On the other side of the room both Mia and Ni stepped behind a wooden screen to change. He was surprised at how _mundane_ the room felt, there wasn’t any magic anywhere past the door as far as he could tell.

When they both stepped out wearing identical short plain white shifts he blushed and looked away. It wasn’t exactly immodest, but it wasn’t any better than when they had met with him in the park back in July dressed in only their pyjamas. He shifted uncomfortably at the images his mind presented to him; he was with Ni, not both of them, and they weren’t ready for that kind of thing either.

He was fascinated by the ritual as he watched; he shivered when Mia used a syringe to draw her own blood, remembering his time in the graveyard but assured himself it was okay. There was no way Ni would be there, accepting what Mia was doing, if there was anything wrong. She was taking her _own_ blood anyway, that… meant something, surely.

It still left him deeply uncomfortable, and that only got worse as Mia started chanting and Ni started swaying slightly. It was like she was in a trance. The shifting colours drifting in the incense’s smoke worried him a little too. They were coming out with Hermione’s—Ni’s breath, like she was the source. The fact they slowly drifted to Mia and diminished when she took in a breath herself meant something, probably.

He didn’t bother listening to Mia’s chant; once he realised it was in Latin there was no chance that he was going to make sense of it. He knew most spells were _based_ on Latin, but they weren’t actually Latin. Maybe knowing the language was important for rituals? It seemed like it to him.

He was getting quite bored and restless when Mia snapped her eyes open and dropped the ring she had been holding into a bowl of strange silvery water. The resulting black mist exploding outwards and horrifying scream startled him, but it was Hermione’s gasp that had him leaping to his feet.

“Harry, no! Stay there!” Mia called out, but he wasn’t paying attention. Something had happened to Ni—to _Hermione._

He stumbled and almost fell over after he got up thanks to his legs being asleep, but he made it past the line on the floor anyway. As soon as he did, he felt _something_ strike him. His scar was on fire in a way that he could only recognise as being like when he touched Professor Quirrell, only more agonising than it ever had been before. The pain only stopped after the scream and black mist had faded away.

When it faded, what remained was a sense of _Hermione_ all around him. It was like he could smell and feel her in the smoke, just as if she was holding onto him and hugging him tightly. Which she wasn’t, because she had collapsed, and Mia was holding her in the centre of the room. Neither his girlfriend nor best friend were close enough for him to be able to feel them like that.

“Damnit Harry, I told you to stay there! Kreacher!”

The house elf popped into the room and glared at them. “What does the filthy Mudblood girl demand of Kreacher _now?”_

“Get some Murtlap Essence, now!” Mia snapped at Kreacher. It didn’t seem right for Hermione, either of them, to act so harshly with an elf, but he popped away without further comment. “Damnit, I hoped it wouldn’t happen again. And you, Harry. I told you to stay, you idiot!”

“She collapsed! What was I supposed to do?!”

“Trust me to know what I’m doing, that’s what!”

Harry bit back his retort as something wet fell into his eye. Reaching up he touched his brow, only for his fingers to come away smeared with blood. “The hell?”

“I told you we didn’t know how you being here for this would affect your scar, that’s why you needed to stay put! If you can’t listen, we can’t let you help with anything!”

He wanted to tell her that she had planned to use this same ritual on him, and it was hypocritical to be mad at him _now_ since she had wanted him to be at the centre of it, but he didn’t want to fight. Not with his girlfriend lying on the floor murmuring in her sleep.

“You said this happened before.” He stared at her, demanding answers.

“Yes, we’re… I don’t know. In resonance, magically, emotionally. Our souls, maybe. We’ve had bigger concerns than figuring it out. She’s seeing something from my memories right now. Some of them are horrible, so you better not get angry with her when she wakes up. She doesn’t need you getting moody just because you didn’t understand what was going on and didn’t listen.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, but decided it wasn’t worth the argument.  He moved over next to Ni and sat down, reaching over to pull her into his arms. Mia was reluctant to let go at first, but when Kreacher popped back in with a jar and some cloth, she went to take it. Soon he was cradling Ni, while Mia wiped away the blood from his forehead and rubbed the Murtlap Essence into his scar.

Kreacher stared at the ring lying at the bottom of the silver bowl briefly as he fiddled with Slytherin’s Locket, then popped away. He had a gleefully manic grin on his face as he left, which was a little disturbing.

It wasn’t more than a few minutes before Ni woke up groaning. For a moment she looked confused, then she sat up abruptly. “She explained the regression ritual by _talking to herself?_ ” She said, staring at Mia.

Mia barely waited a single second after Ni had sat up before lunging at her and pulling her into a hug. “Yes, she did.” Mia let go and sighed in relief. “Not a bad one, then. That’s good. Your boyfriend here leapt out from behind the braided well and hurt himself on the ritual’s aftermath.”

Ni turned to Harry with a glare and swatted his shoulder. “She told you to just watch, and you agreed!”

“You fell down, I was worried!” He blurted out. Clearly, he had made a mistake, but he’d thought she’d been hurt. She would have done the same.

“I was fine!” She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Well, I’ve been fine each time before. Scared, maybe, but fine.” She held her arms up to him and he happily reached out to pull her into a hug. She relaxed into his arms before speaking again. “It happens, we’re not sure why. I think it’s because we’re the same person in magic and soul; our bodies aren’t the same anymore, not exactly. We don’t have the same minds either, so it’s got to be either our magic or our souls.”

It wasn’t the first time they had basically said the same thing to him independently. A reminder that even if Ni was his girlfriend now, they were both Hermione first, Ni and Mia second. 

Mia nodded curtly, then reached into the bowl to pick up the ring. “Right. We’re done. Hermione and I will change again, then I’ll take us back to the library.” She frowned at the ring, turning it slowly in her hands. “I’ve got…” She glanced at Harry, chewing on her lip in thought. “No, I’ll tell you once I’ve got it ready.”

Harry and Ni spent a few more minutes holding one another before they felt ready to leave, and Harry reluctantly returned to the corridor while the girls changed again. He had to jinx a few pests that tried to attack him while he waited, but it didn’t take long for the Hermiones to finish and Mia to take them back.

He was quite relieved when neither of them pressured him into doing the last two inches of his _dream diary_ then and there. Ni seemed more interested in just holding onto him and running her hands through his hair for a while, and Mia left with the ring almost immediately. Whatever she was planning, he hoped they’d go back to talking to each other soon.

 


	16. Ch. XVI - Hermione And A Train

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: This took longer than it should have. Anyway, it’s done. Time to plot and plan and outline what’s coming. Last update until I’ve gotten a head start for the next arc, which will be a while.
> 
> Many thanks to Tyrannic_Puppy for providing comments and beta work on this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: Is there any explanation for how the Hogwarts express gets out of London unnoticed? If not, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.

**16th of August, 1995,  No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

Hermione was waiting for Harry in her private room, ostensibly to do more studying, but really, she needed to talk to him. She should have done it the night before—Dad had always said to never go to bed angry. And she _had_ been angry with him. They probably should have explained things better, but…

He hadn’t trusted her when she said she’d be okay. He hadn’t trusted that Mia would take care of her. And, worst of all, he hadn’t trusted them enough to stay _safe_ when they both had told him interfering was dangerous. She wasn’t sure what worried her more, that he didn’t care enough about his own safety, or that he hadn’t listened to them.

When Harry finally came in, she marked her page and closed it. She didn’t get up to greet him, didn’t smile—even though she wanted to, he just looked so worried that she wanted to reassure him—didn’t shift to let him sit next to her.

 His countenance fell further under her silent gaze as he moved to take a sit opposite her.

“Harry,” her voice quivered, she didn’t like doing this, “do you understand what you did wrong last night?”

He met her eyes briefly before they darted back to the floor. His hands clenched and unclenched as he fidgeted nervously. “You... weren’t hurt. I shouldn’t have left the, um, corner-thing.” 

Hermione sniffed at that. He wasn’t wrong, but that wasn’t the point. She kept her gaze on him as he continued to fidget, not hiding her disapproval in the slightest.

He didn’t answer for some time. It was tempting to pick up her book and go back to reading, to get something productive done with her time. She didn’t, however. Doing that to Harry—making him think he wasn’t worth her time—would be just as bad as what he had done. So, she leaned back, crossed her arms, and continued to wait.

Eventually he took a deep breath and met her gaze, albeit unsteadily. “I… I didn’t trust you. You said you would be fine—you should have said, though! I...  what was I supposed to think when you collapsed?” 

“We should’ve—but did you not trust Mia to make sure I was okay? You got hurt—” Her breath hitched, and it was surprising just how much she felt bad that he was hurt because of her. Because he wanted to make sure she was okay. “—because you didn’t wait, you didn’t trust Mia. Didn’t trust me.”

She bit her lip. He shouldn’t have gotten hurt. “Maybe we should do something about your scar, if it—”

“No! It’s stopped hurting. I had a nightmare, fine, that was… unpleasant.” He turned away, staring blankly at a wall. “Horrible. But that doesn’t—I can’t get rid of it. Not just because it’s unpleasant.” He turned back to her, his eyes haunted by whatever he had seen in his latest vision. “If there’s a way to end it sooner, I _have_ to try.”

“I—” Hermione cut off her retort; she wanted to argue that was more of a reason to get rid of his scar than to keep it, to keep himself from suffering. But his argument still stood—he was right that if they could end it sooner they needed to try. Riddle wouldn’t be doing nothing while they waited. “Okay. Can you tell me what you saw, Harry?” 

He opened his mouth and closed it a few times before sighing. “There were… it was a muggle. He was laughing, enjoying the screams. Like it was music.” He sunk into his seat, voice dropping to a whisper. “It felt like _I_ was enjoying it.”

Hermione didn’t hesitate this time. She got up from her chair, sat in his lap and engulfed Harry in a hug. “ _Never_. You are not him. You aren’t cruel like that. Never think that, Harry, you’re noble and kind. Not sadistic.” She kissed him lightly before drawing his head to her chest—she was still glad he wasn’t any bigger than her, it would be harder to hold him like this if he was.

He returned her hug and the tension slowly left him. “Thank you, Hermione.”

“You can tell me anything Harry, don’t think that I’ll ever hate you for it. That I’ll ever care less for you because of what you’ve seen—because of what… happened to you. No matter what it is.”

“Even if—even if I want to hurt someone…?” 

“Harry, after what I’ve learned, I’ve wanted to curse Ron a dozen times in the last month alone. I’m not perfect either—remember Malfoy in June last year? I could barely believe it, but it felt so right at the time. I only haven’t done it again because the consequences aren’t worth it.”

He laughed and she smiled in response. ”It’s funny, you’ve always been the most… physical of the three of us...” His humour quickly fled.

She sighed. Just because she punched Malfoy once—and maybe hit him playfully once in a while—didn’t make her the most violent of their group. “I wasn’t the one who got into an unsanctioned duel in my first weeks at school.” She pushed herself off his chest so she could look him in the eye. “I’m _not_ the violent one here! Nor do I get hurt half as much as you! Merlin, I wish you’d stop playing. Each game terrifies me. But that stupid sport—”

“Hey!”

Hermione grinned as she ignored his protest and continued on. “—is one of the few things you enjoy. I don’t like it, I don’t really care about it, but  _you_ do. So, I’m invested anyway. I’d like you to be more careful, but I’m not going to tell you to stop.” She huffed and kissed his forehead briefly. “Not that I’d ever succeed, it’d be like telling me to stop reading.”

Harry was grinning at her lopsidedly again, and Hermione found it was doing funny things to her insides again. As she began to blush she quickly became aware of just how close she was to Harry, which only made her blush harder.

Her words were far less precise as she went to finish what she was saying, simply trying to prevent herself from stammering taking most of her focus. “Anyway, I trust you when you play Quidditch. You know the game better than me, and you’re a much better flyer. I trust you to avoid getting hurt as much as you can—and you do! You’ve gotten hurt, but only seriously when something interferes. You need to trust that I—and Mia—know what we’re doing, that we’ve researched things properly.”

Harry stared at her for a few minutes, making her blush ever more until he finally blurted something out. “I need to write a letter.”

Hermione was taken aback—she was still sitting in his lap and wondering what he was thinking, and he decides he needs to write a letter. “What?” She tried to keep the hurt out of her voice, but the way his brow furrowed with concern told her something slipped through.

“I messed up. You’re right about that. I need to apologise properly, so I need to write to Andromeda. I… I need advice, Hermione.” He reached up and brushed her cheek with one hand, and she leaned into his touch. “I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know I need to do it _right_. I’ll do better, I promise.”

Hermione reached up held his hand to her cheek with her own, then shifted until her head was rested on his shoulder. She hummed contentedly as he held her. Studying could wait, she needed time to be a girlfriend too.

–oOoOo–

“Will you tell me what you’re working on, Miss Doppelgranger? **”**

**“** No, Sirius.” She paused for a moment then looked up at him with an exasperated frown. “Doppelgranger? Really? It’s better than Harry’s shrubbery joke, but not by much.”

“Shrubbery?”

“The Knights Who Say Ni. It’s a Monty—it’s a muggle thing. Maybe we’ll get a chance to show you one day, I think you’d enjoy it.”

Sirius blinked and shrugged. He was fairly used to obscure muggle references by this point. Some of them sounded pretty cool, really. He’d known about the men on the moon from Lily for ages, but people actually _living_ in tin cans that spun around the planet? It was interesting, but very strange.

“Great. Now, really, tell me about what you’re working on. I need a distraction—” he suppressed a growl, “—”I just fought with Harry over his dumb plan. _Again._ He’s mad at me, and I’m mad at me for getting him mad at me. I just…”

“He was determined Sirius, that’s why I didn’t try.” She sighed resignedly. “When he gets an idea in his head nothing short of it failing right in front of him will deter him. I hate it. I want him to change his mind. He won’t. You’ve already gone over his nightmares, lack of sleep, moodiness, headaches, and everything else, right?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “and the risk of Vol— _Riddle_ trying possess him. Implanted suggestions, irrationality, all the risks of having a… a _parasite_ like that.”

“Then there’s nothing we can do but try to stop his decision backfiring horribly. Damage control. I’m focusing on _this…_ right now. How to do it right. After that, I’m going to start Occlumency sessions with him.” Hermione put her quill down and stared at her notes. “Hopefully it will help if it’s done right.”

“I don’t like having to hope, Hermione. I really don’t.”

Hermione shrugged and went back to what she was working on, leaving Sirius to puzzle over how to handle the growing problem with Molly. She wasn’t doing anything in front of the kids anymore but kept trying to coerce him in private.

Merlin knew what she’d do when she found out Harry and Hermione—the other Hermione—were actually dating.

**17th of August, 1995,  No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

“Wotcher, Harry!” Tonks paused for a moment, squinting at them, “Ni? Yeah, Wotcher, Ni,”

Hermione didn’t properly register the intrusion into their work space, merely grumbling about someone interrupting her studying time. She was finding the mathematics workbooks Mia had acquired for them quite easy, and she was eager to finish off a third today. Harry was a fair bit behind her, still only working on his first, but it seemed he was having less trouble than he had expected.

Harry looked up from the multitude of paperwork spread out before him. “Hi, Tonks,” He murmured blearily.

“Harry! Don’t fall asleep on me, we were just reaching a good pace!” Hermione scolded him, but as she looked up, she saw Tonks. Tonks who worked long hours during the week and wouldn’t be around if it wasn’t evening. “Oh, Hi Tonks. Um, what time is it?”

“Mmm, seven? You missed supper, by the way.” Tonks grinned at them.

Hermione turned to Harry and he blinked at her. She blushed brighter, leaned over at put a hand on his arm. “Er, sorry, Harry. We should take a break, shouldn’t we??”

He rolled his eyes at her and nodded. “Yeah, it’s been, what, six hours? Didn’t think there would be _this_ much work involved in this…”

“We’re four years behind, Harry. Of course it’s a lot of work!” Hermione felt a little annoyed he hadn’t properly thought out how much they would need to do. They weren’t trying for a full course load or anything, merely English and Mathematics for the moment. Still, he was trying… “Thank you for studying with me, Harry.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. If Tonks wasn’t there, she might have done a little more.

“‘S alright. I think I should’ve done this _before_ I wrote my essays.” Harry frowned at his workbook; he had chosen to work on his English first since it involved a lot of practice writing, and notes on how to write properly. Apparently even he didn’t like the chicken scratch he produced. “I’m not doing them again, though.”

Hermione clamped her mouth shut, cutting off her comment. She wasn’t that predictable, was she? She shook her head quickly. “No, no, that’s fine… I mean, I’d like you to do better, but you got them done early. I’m proud of you for doing that!” She beamed at him. Harry getting his work done early wasn’t as absurd as Ron doing it, but it was still worth praising.

“Hogwarts should have something for writing though, they don’t cover a lot of the things we need to learn, do they…” Hermione muttered. Ever since Mia had shown up she’d been questioning the quality of her education more. Hogwarts was still a good school for magic, but it was lacking in so many other ways.

“Mmm. Sirius was right, you two _are_ adorable together.” Tonks grinned at them both, and Harry joined Hermione in blushing. “Right, right. I want to say congratulations, ya know? My ickle cousin’s got his first girlfriend.”

“Tonks!” Harry whined. If she wasn’t as embarrassed as he was, Hermione would be admonishing him for whinging. As it was, she was tempted to join him; Sirius was bad enough, they didn’t need Tonks teasing them too!

“Was there anything else, or are you just here to embarrass us?” Hermione tried her best to glare Tonks into being sensible, but it was clear she was still enjoying herself.

“Heh. McGonagall’s finishin’ up a chat with Dumbledore, but afterwards she’s asked to talk to you, Hermione. Both of you. Mia’s already downstairs, waitin’.” Tonks scratched her cheek absently. “Surprised she wasn’t up here with you, to be honest. Would’ve thought it’d have been a three-way study session.” Her expression froze for a moment, then she grinned.

“No! We don’t do that, Tonks!” Harry blurted out.

Hermione groaned; he’d given her exactly the response she wanted. And now she was thinking about it too!

“I didn’t say anythin’! Anyway, gotta run, Mum’s expecting me home. Don’t forget to write her, Harry!” Tonks sprinted out of the room, and a few moments later there was a loud thud and muffled curses as she tripped over something, again.

“I’m not sure how much I like you having a big sister figure, Harry. Sirius alone is bad enough.” 

Harry just shook his head and stood up. He offered his hand to help her up and she took it with a smile. “Well, Ni, shall we go see what the Professor wants with you?”

“Yes, let’s,” Hermione could still barely believe Harry had asked her to be his girlfriend. That he’d _kissed_ her. It hadn’t been her first kiss, and it hadn’t been perfect like she had dreamed of as a girl, but it had been her _best_ kiss in ways she couldn’t even try to describe. Sweaty, smelly, and feeling a bit guilty about Mia and all.

Hermione frowned and felt a twinge of hurt in her chest. Mia still wasn’t talking to them much and it stung. She really hoped that things cleared up before long, she missed being able to talk with Mia about everything.

–oOoOo–

Harry and Ni stepped into the sitting room Professor McGonagall had appropriated and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. It had just been her and the professor for the last few minutes, and the atmosphere was surprisingly tense. She’d thought the professor liked her before she came back. It had certainly felt like she was a prized student, but now she wasn’t so sure. Their head of house never really _did_ anything. Past or future, it didn’t seem like she had ever interfered with the vicious infighting of Gryffindor house.

“Good of you to join us, Miss Granger.” Professor McGonagall remained impassive, betraying nothing. “Mister Potter, you may go.”

“I’d like him to stay, professor.” Ni replied.

McGonagall looked at Hermione, who simply shrugged. She didn’t care too much if Harry was here; clearly McGonagall still wasn’t going to give him his prefect badge—one he would use _responsibly_ unlike a certain red-head. But that did bring up the question: where was that particular red-headed menace?

Somehow managing to look put-upon by simply having Harry in attendance, Professor McGonagall nodded her head and gestured for them to sit. Harry ended up in the middle on the settee and gave her a little smile. She wasn’t as mad as she had been, but she still didn’t feel like returning it, to his obvious dismay.

“As you may already be aware it is my duty as head of Gryffindor house to choose a prefect from both the boys and the girls entering fifth, sixth, and seventh year.” The Professor pressed her lips into a thin line, standing over and peering down at them. “ _Despite_ some of your recent, reckless, actions Misses Granger, either of you remain my best choice for fifth year prefect. Your academic record is impeccable, and you have far fewer incidents on record than any other student in Gryffindor.”

Hermione could barely keep herself from expressing her disbelief at that. She hadn’t gotten into as much trouble as the other Gryffindors, but it had always been _bigger._ The professor’s ignorance wasn’t really a surprise in that regard, however. Dumbledore wasn’t one to share secrets.

“However, formally, there can only be _one_ fifth year girls’ prefect. The Headmaster has also prepared the paperwork for you to sign for the cover identity of the… second Miss Granger. I will leave it amongst yourselves to resolve who shall take the cover, and who shall be prefect. The prefect, of course, must be _Hermione_ Granger.”

Professor McGonagall’s gaze bored into them for a few moments, ever the picture of the stern teacher. “Is this all clear, Misses Granger?”

“Yes Professor,” Hermione and Ni chanted in perfect sync. Harry stifled a chuckle by forcing a cough, but McGonagall didn’t seem amused.

“Very well. Do you have any questions?”

“One, professor. Who is the boys’ prefect?” Ni asked as she made furtive glances towards Harry.

“Mister Weasley,” at their frowns the professor merely arched one eyebrow. “I am aware of your recent falling out. However, barring the twin Messrs Weasley, they have all made exceptional prefects. I am certain Mister Weasley will step up to his responsibilities.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Hermione muttered with a sigh. “Thank you, professor, for informing us in person.”

Professor McGonagall nodded sternly. “If that is all I shall be returning to Hogwarts. I do believe Molly has prepared a party downstairs in celebration of your and Mr Weasley’s new status, unfortunately I am too busy to join the festivities.” The professor waited a moment, as if expecting something, before frowning when none of them responded. “Good day, Misses Granger, Mister Potter.”

She strode out of the room, leaving little time for their own murmured farewells. Once she was gone Harry let out a sigh and leaned into Ni’s shoulder.

“I’d hoped, a little, that she wouldn’t. Why _Ron_ of all people? He’s… what makes _him_ prefect material?”

“His brothers, apparently.” Hermione couldn’t help but growl. The professor had basically admitted to choosing Ron based solely on who his brothers were. “I thought it was because Dumbledore wanted you isolated, and it still could be that… but if it’s just because of nepotism? I’m not sure I can respect her anymore.”

Ni leaned over Harry and gave Hermione’s hand a squeeze. “Do you want to be prefect, Mia? I know you don’t want to—”

“Oh, Merlin no. I wouldn’t last a day having to put up with his whining; I’ll take patrols with the Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws if you want a break, but I’m not walking around the castle with _Ronald._ ” Hermione spotted Ni wincing and realised she was crushing Ni’s hand. “Sorry,” she let go and drew away.

She didn’t expect Ni to crawl across Harry to hug her directly in response to being hurt. It felt good to have their closeness back, even if it was just for a moment or two. She had missed it more than she would’ve expected over the last few days.

“Mia, I’m sorry.”

“What?”

Harry, still largely trapped underneath Ni, somehow got his arm around her as well. “I’m sorry too. We were insensitive about… my scar.”

For a moment Hermione’s heart soared, then it dropped again. It didn’t even matter if he changed his mind, they didn’t have the materials to cleanse it now that they had purified the ring, and it would be months before what she was preparing was potent enough for the ritual.

“I stand by my decision. It’s _my_ choice. But… I upset you. Is there something you want me to do to make up for it?”

“Occlumency,” Hermione couldn’t be called happy that he hadn’t seen sense, but at least he still wanted her advice. “You need proper Occlumency shields so your connection doesn’t ruin your life this year. You had constant headaches, visions, nightmares… we need to teach you Occlumency properly. The glasses won’t cut it.”

They shuffled around so she sat between the two of them, although not being embraced by either anymore. Ni looked on encouragingly, while Harry appeared more determined than anything.

“Right. When do you want to start?”

Hermione smiled, but before she could answer the door blew open and she remembered they weren’t in one of their private rooms with alarm.

“Hey, Hermione!–” “–Can you believe it?–” “–you’ve got ickle Ronnikins–” “–as your prefect partner!” Fred and George were grinning as they stood in the doorway. “Mum’s got a party–” “–It’s for both of you–” “–down in the kitchen.”

They looked at each other for a moment, then turned back to the stunned trio. “It’s funny–” “–we thought Harry’d get it–” “but this way we’re really the Black Sheep!” “Only Weasleys of our generation to _not_ be prefects.” “No way Ginny won’t get it next year, right?”

Harry frowned briefly before schooling his features. Not that she was much better herself, although she was mostly annoyed at herself for forgetting they weren’t secure. They couldn’t afford mistakes like that. Not now, not ever.

“Shouldn’t you be congratulating me, Fred, George?” Ni asked briskly, “Honestly, just because it’s _expected_ …” She shook her head and signed.

“Sorry, sorry!” Their wide grins belied their remorse, “Congratulations Hermione, you were clearly the first choice—out of the two who had any chance.” Fred pulled a sickle out of his pocket and stared at his twin. “Why, we had a bet going on who would get the girls prefect…”

George grabbed his own coin and glanced between her and Ni. “so, who got it?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and nudged Ni, who shot her a glance. Before either of them could decide how to respond, Harry cut in blithely.

“Why, Hermione did, of course.”

They both slapped their coins into each other’s hands with a laugh. “That’s what we figured.” 

“You coming down to the party then?” George said as he looked on expectantly.

“Either of you interested in that party?” Harry asked dryly.

Hermione shook her head. “I’m going to go over the cover story Dumbledore has made for me. Better to do that sooner rather than later.”

“Sorry, Fred, but no. We’ve not been getting… on well with Ron, as you know.” Ni smiled apologetically at the twins. “Besides, I’d rather celebrate with my, um, boyfriend in private.” She gave Hermione one last hug before she stood up and offered Harry her hand. “Coming, Harry?”

Hermione smiled as Harry and Ni left, but the frowns the twins had on their faces as they watched them go had her a little concerned. They had always been protective of their siblings in their own way.

“Getting a bit much, isn’t it?” Fred said quietly as they turned to leave themselves.

“The hell did Ron do this time to upset all of them? It’s definitely too much.” George muttered back.

Hermione pulled out a notebook and jotted down the twin’s reaction and turned back to her letter. It wasn’t a very good cover story from her perspective. Separated at birth—not really any other way they could do it, considering—but the details of her _upbringing_ and education were barely existent. Maybe that made it simpler, or maybe it made it worse. It wasn’t really something she knew that much about.

After finishing the letter she leaned back with a sigh. _Helen Jasmine Granger._ Keeping the same initials was important for purposes of her signature’s magical legitimacy, she knew, but the name just didn’t feel right. She wasn’t a Helen, nor was she a Jasmine. At least her new name did have one thing going for it: it wasn’t _Mia._

–oOoOo–

Harry heard a knocking at his door, which was a little surprising. Both Hermiones had gone to bed, and Sirius was talking with Tonks last he’d seen. It hadn’t been that long ago either. Feeling curious, he opened the door and was surprised to see Ginny standing there, looking away shyly.

She glanced up at him, before looking away again. “Hey, Harry. Um. I don’t… want to come in, but do you mind talking for a minute?”

He wasn’t too sure what Ginny wanted from him—he hoped she hadn’t gotten the idea of asking him out or anything. He had no idea how to handle that, and really, really, didn’t want to upset her. It would make things awkward and set the twins on him. They were always going on about how they’d never forgive anyone who hurt their _baby_ sister.

“Sure, I guess.” He stepped out of his room and leaned against the wall, tugging lightly on his wand holster to reassure himself that nothing bad would happen.

“I wanted to know what happened with you and Ron. I mean, you were best friends, and I know he got jealous when the tournament started…”

“More than jealous! He, like everyone except Hermione, ditched me.” He glared at her accusingly. She hadn’t been any better, even if they hadn’t been close enough for it be a betrayal.

She winced and accepted the rebuke. “Yeah, I know. But what did he do _now?_ Mum’s been trying to get all of us to help you make up. Fred and George thought it was funny at first, but since you three snubbed Mum’s party… it wasn’t pretty.”

“McGonagall practically said Hermione was made prefect only because she didn’t have a better candidate, and then gave _Ron_ prefect. He’s broken as many rules as me, and not done half the stuff I did! He’s not responsible, or a good student. Why did _he_ get prefect?” Harry glared off down the hall. He wasn’t mad at Ginny, but Ron being prefect rubbed him the wrong way. Ron was even _less_ responsible than he was, and not even a tenth as responsible as Hermione.

“I think you would have been a better prefect, Harry.” Ginny smiled at him shyly. “But that’s not why you stopped being friends.”

Harry suppressed a shiver at Ginny’s smile. He wasn’t comfortable with her flirting with him, not knowing what he did. She did deserve an answer, though. Not that he was really sure how to give one without either lying or revealing too much.

“... He lost something of mine. Let out a secret, and got it confiscated. He hasn’t admitted it or apologised, and I’m not letting him off until he does.” Which, knowing Ron, will be the end of the month at the soonest. Probably longer.

“You mean the mirror?”

Harry snapped his attention back to Ginny and glowered at her. “How do you know about that?!”

“I just—he didn’t tell me, I was wondering what he was doing in his room and I heard your voice. I spied on him a couple of times, that’s how. I never told anyone, I swear. Not even mum.”

Harry didn’t let up his glower even as Ginny shrunk away. “This is what I mean! He didn’t keep it a secret, at all. He messed up, lost me my dad’s mirror, and hasn’t apologised!”

“Oh—okay, I… I get it now. I’mgonnagonow, bye.” Ginny dashed away, fleeing from his anger.

Harry retreated back into his room with a sigh. He knew without any doubt that it was Ron’s fault now. Not that there were really any other possibilities to begin with.

**18th of August, 1995,  No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

“Harry, Sirius, Hermione, today… I’ve decided what I’m going to do with the resurrection stone. I’ve used it before—in the future. We’re down here, in the ritual chamber, because no one should notice what’s happening down here. I’m not—I will not give up the stone. I don’t have a reason to use it, I don’t have anyone to call. It will only cause heartbreak if I give it to either of you.”

Hermione put up her hand to stall their protests. Harry only knew what she or Ni had told him about the stone, but Sirius knew the stories for sure. “Being summoned starts to hurt the spirits after an hour. After two, they are crying from the agony. If you dismiss them and then call them back, they… they don’t remember being summoned. They forget.” She looked up at them and met Sirius’ gaze firmly. “You could talk to them time and time again, but they would never change. This isn’t so you can have your friends back Sirius, or your parents, Harry. It’s so you can say goodbye. They won’t know anything that happened after their deaths, the last thing they will remember _is_ their deaths. However, they won’t dwell on it. I don’t know why.”

Sirius growled. “And what gives you the right to make this decision?”

“I _own_ the stone, for one. I recovered it, I broke the protections, cleansed it. It. Is. Mine.” She stared Sirius in the eye, glad Ni was whispering in Harry’s ear reasons why he shouldn’t object to her decision himself. He could claim the stone from her if he chose; it was his heritage and she was mostly bluffing. “Another reason is that I _have_ used it before. I—back in the future—summoned Harry’s wraith. I loved talking to him, it was a respite from all the… horrible things I learnt. But every time I called him, it hurt.” She clenched a hand over her heart and looked down at the floor; even remembering it hurt a little. “I had to tell him why I was a teenager again. I had to tell him about the potions… going back in time. I always lost precious minutes to his arguments, and I had practiced them dozens of times.

“I won’t let you do that with James and Lily. I’ve called them once and spoken with them on how to handle this; one hour, you get to talk to them for one hour. After that, they go back to their rest. You get to say goodbye. Nothing more.”

“James… Lily… they chose to do it this way?” Sirius drooped, his shoulders falling and his arms hanging limply. 

“Yes, I consulted them. They won’t remember, and you don’t want to waste time asking. Your time will be shared because they have things they want to say to both of you while they’re here, or at least that’s what they told me.”

“Okay, right, okay.” Sirius began. “Please, don’t make me wait any longer. I need to say—I need to say I’m sorry.”

Hermione twisted the stone three times, remembering and focusing on the image of James and Lily Potter. They had been nice to talk to, and once she had explained what she could to them, were both saddened by what she was doing and overjoyed at getting to tell their son how proud they were. As they appeared she stepped towards the door, grabbing Ni’s arm as she went. This wasn’t their place, it was for Harry and Sirius alone.

“Come on, we should leave.” It took some tugging to convince Ni to leave, but as Harry started weeping when Lily tried to hug him and phased through him Ni followed her out and let the door close quietly behind them.

After a few moments silence in the open corridor Ni took in a deep breath. “Mia? I know I—we, me and Harry that is, already said we’re sorry… but it wasn’t enough.” She bowed her head and wrung her hands nervously. “I should have gotten Harry to discuss it more, to talk over how to do his plan safely; instead I got caught up in him being self-sacrificing and noble. I encouraged him…

“I didn’t forget, you know, that you said you—that _she_ watched him die. That he died because you… because he didn’t give up on the older Hermione.” Ni looked up, her eyes sparkling with tears in the dim light of the corridor and reached out a hand tentatively. Hermione ignored it and pulled Ni into a hug.

“It’s okay, Hermione.”

“It’s not! I got caught up in Harry, and he got caught up in me. We completely forgot about you, and that’s not okay! We cut you off and ignored you, and if us being together means we do that maybe it—”

Hermione slapped a hand over Nia’s mouth, cutting her off. “No, don’t you dare say it.” She squeezed Ni as tightly as she could. She wouldn’t let her counterpart throw away half the reason she had come back. Harry was happy, and that was why she was doing this. She didn’t matter. “You and Harry are brilliant together. Love him, take care of him, and I’ll handle the rest. That’s what I told you when we started this.” 

Hermione relaxed her grip and hoped Ni understood. There was nothing more important to her than seeing Harry through this war alive, safe, and happy.

“You shouldn’t have to do it alone. You _don’t_ have to do it alone!” Ni protested as she pushed herself off of Hermione and swatted at her shoulder. “Don’t—don’t act like we’re not part of this. We’re in this together. You, me, Sirius, Harry. Even Tonks and Andy can help.”

Hermione nodded, but it wasn’t sincere. It was her job to fix everything. Not Ni’s, not Andy’s, not Tonks’, not even Sirius’ or Harry’s. Especially not Harry’s. Ni didn’t understand, and since she didn’t the only one who might was Sirius. But she couldn’t tell him. It would only make him do something reckless; Harry couldn’t lose his Godfather he did before.

–oOoOo–

Hermione had sat in the corridor with Mia for an hour waiting for Sirius and Harry to finish their conversation with James and Lily, and they still weren’t done. She wasn’t too sure if the spirits summoned by the stone were real. They seemed a lot like ghosts to her. Every textbook she had read said ghosts weren’t really people, but just echoes. Like magical paintings. 

It probably didn’t matter, not from anything other than an academic standpoint. If they knew, felt, and acted the same as the real person had at the time of their death, would anyone be able to tell the difference?

It also made a chilling parallel to her and Mia’s situation. They were very, very similar. The same person in almost every way. If the spirits summoned by the stone, that were so close to their originals were fake, what did that mean for Mia? Hermione couldn’t think of her as fake. That would be too cruel.

Maybe she should be thinking of her as Helen now, rather than Mia, since it was going to be her new name? It didn’t fit. Maybe they could protest it, and… well, the story was that her dad wasn’t their biological dad and they were twins separated at birth. Mia had been raised in another country by her father, learned magic there. What if they just said they were both called Hermione? That their parents both wanted that name for their twin?

It made as much sense as _Helen_ did, and wouldn’t be as cruel to Mia. She would have to write to Dumbledore. Hopefully it wasn’t too late.

She was about to tell Mia what she was going to do when Harry burst out of the chamber crying. Before she could get to her feet, he had collapsed onto them both and was hugging them.

“Thank you, thank you. Thank you for being my friend, for… for being here. For forgiving me, for not abandoning me. Thank you, Hermione.” He squeezed them both so tightly they were pressing into one another, and then he kissed her cheek. And Mia’s.

“Harry,” Hermione reached up and hugged him back. She had known this would be emotional, but this was beyond anything she had seen from Harry before. “It’s okay, you’re my best friend. Our best friend. Of course we’re going to be here for you.”

He shook his head, burrowing in between their shoulders and into their hair. “You’ve… I’ve not said it properly. I don’t, I don’t… You let me have my—my parents back. Even if it was just to... I don’t deserve you, either of you. I’m sorry for not being a better friend…”

Mia joined her in hugging him back and they let him continue crying and murmuring into their shoulders. Hermione watched the door for Sirius, but it wasn’t Sirius that emerged. Padfoot, the Grim, did instead.

He walked forward and curled up at their feet, behind Harry, and whined softly. Hermione had never seen a dog cry before, but there he was with tears spilling out of his eyes. 

“You’re welcome, both of you.” Mia whispered, “I’m glad you got to say goodbye.”

Harry nodded into their shoulders, no longer able to do more than sob as he cried himself out. Sirius shifted until he was atop their laps; a pile of three teenagers and an oversized dog. One where Harry was squeezed in between all of them, held tightly as he let go of the parents he had never truly had.

**19th of August, 1995,  No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

Harry smiled as Mia walked up beside him and sat leaned on the side of his chair. Ni was taking a nap on his shoulder as he read through a textbook, having spent far too long the previous night going over the rules and regulations that a prefect was expected to know.

“Feeling better today, Harry?” Mia said quietly, trying not to disturb Ni.

“Yeah, a lot better. Yesterday was… It was a lot. Thank you, thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, but I said that already. And so did you.” She grinned at him. “Not that I mind being thanked, it’s nice to be appreciated.”

Harry winced internally. He knew now that he had a bad habit of taking advantage of Hermione. Not intentionally, but just by expecting her to be there for him. She did things for him on her own, without him asking, and he’d gotten used to it. 

“I do appreciate you, both of you. Really,” he ran a hand through Ni’s hair and she wriggled to make herself more comfortable before mewling quietly. He started rubbing her shoulder slowly, which thankfully settled her down; she needed her sleep.

“You remember what you promised me two days ago, Harry?”

“Um,” His mind was still a little scattered from the events of yesterday—meeting, and talking with his Mum and Dad… it had taken over everything in his mind. “Occlumency…?” It was for his scar, to stop the nightmares. That was it. It had been hurting every so often, and more since he… ran into the ritual. “Yeah, you wanted to start me learning Occlumency properly.”

Mia nodded. “You think you’re able to start?”

He looked down at Ni resting beside him and frowned. It wasn’t really the best time, but he _had_ promised. “Does it have to be now?” 

“Harry, if it’s not now, then when?” Mia put a hand on her hips and gave that _look_ which informed him of just how disappointed she was. Like he was skiving off on his homework again. “Putting this off isn’t helping.”

“Right,” He sighed, there wasn’t much he could do about it but listen. Unless he wanted them both mad at him. “Help me set her down, please?”

As Mia gently levitated Ni off of him she mewled piteously again, gently clinging to his shirt. It drew a small smile to his face, knowing how even in her sleep, she wanted to be close to him. A few silencing charms later and he felt comfortable enough that she would get her rest even while he and Mia practiced in the same room.

“So, how are we going to do this?” He asked as they settled down on the other side of the room from Ni.

“You are going to have to… trust me. Hermione had an easier time with this—”

“Mia, why are you back to calling her Hermione? She picked out a nickname to make it easier for you…”

Mia froze still for a moment before she sighed resignedly. “I’m going to be calling her Hermione at Hogwarts, aren’t I? Because I’m _Helen_ now.” 

Harry nearly flinched at how bitter she sounded over her new name. “You’re _not_ Helen; you’re Hermione. Ni was telling me she sent a letter to Dumbledore—” He ignored the look of horror on Mia’s face and pushed onward; it wasn’t like Ni had revealed any of their secrets or anything. “—with a story about how you could both use the same name. Your, er, parents splitting up both wanting _their_ twin to have the name Hermione, or something like that.”

Mia stayed quiet, but Harry could see her going over everything in her head. It only _seemed_ like she was glaring him into submission, she wasn’t really paying any attention to the outside world. Eventually her disgust faded and she nodded. “I doubt it will happen but I’ll have to thank her for trying.”

“Now, as I was saying before you interrupted me…” She shot a glare at him which he wasn’t so sure was fake. “Hermione had an easier time with this because I already knew everything. There weren’t any secrets she had from me—except for the events of the time between the winter and summer solstices. For you, you’ll have to… trust that I won’t use anything I learn against you. I need to get into your head and _stay_ there, with you learning how to detect and deflect my intrusion. 

“I’ll be seeing anything you think about while we do that, and some of it you probably won’t be comfortable with me seeing. Private moments, old hurts, things you don’t want to talk about, and…” A faint blush coloured her cheeks. “Um, fantasies.”

She ignored his attempt to ask a question and began talking again to cover her embarrassment. “This is going to be a little different from normal Occlumency practice, as we aren’t trying to teach you to defend against an outside intruder, but an interior possession. Which means the focus is on finding me when I’m in your head, and then throwing me out. Or, if we’re lucky, finding where your scar sits in your mind and isolating that entirely. But that's not likely to happen, sadly.

“Now, if you’re ready, we should get started.”

“Er, I’m not really sure—”

“You don’t get to pick when he attacks you, Harry.” She raised her wand and pointed it at him with a grim look on her face. With a flick, his glasses flew to her outstretched hand. “Try to stay relaxed. And don’t forget to _look_ for me. _Legilimens_.”

–oOoOo–

“Well, um.” Hermione blushed awkwardly. She _knew_ delving into Harry’s head would be… _different_ than Ni’s But that wasn’t what she had been expecting. “I don’t think… brooms aren’t exactly, um, _comfortable_ enough for that, Harry.” She had stayed as unobtrusively as she could in his head, wanting to be harder to find. Apparently just the idea of her, _Hermione_ , even if she wasn’t the one he was dating had set him off.

Snogging atop a broom above a Quidditch pitch wasn’t exactly one of her fantasies. They were rickety, uncomfortable, and _terrible_ in so many ways. Maybe if Britain didn’t have that stupid rule against flying carpets she would try to get better at flying. But not with brooms as the only option.

Hippogriffs weren’t too terrible, but she would have preferred Buckbeak had a saddle for their little rescue mission. Or at least some straps.

Harry was blushing up a storm in front of her, sputtering awkwardly. It was cute, really. He hadn’t done too badly either. His thoughts had stayed pretty focused on flying throughout, only occasionally flickering to her or Ni, and eventually to his little snogging fantasy. 

“Er, I, I didn’t, um… can you… maybe not tell her…?”

“ _Well,_ I think you were on the right track. A nice romantic evening where you kiss her? She’d love it. Just… ditch the broom.” Hermione looked off to the side, at Ni. It really would be nice to experience something like that for herself. She smiled softly; she couldn’t be unhappy that they were together. “Maybe take her down to the boathouse before it gets too cold. It’s always pretty there in the evenings. And it’s one of the places I, well, _we_ go when we want some privacy.” Turning back to Harry she grinned. “I won’t tell her anything; it’ll work better as a surprise.”

She raised her wand again. “We best keep going. Just tell me when you have a headache and we’ll stop; pushing you too hard will make things worse, not better.” At his nod she braced herself. Legilimency wasn’t really all that pleasant, whichever side you were on. “ _Legilimens.”_

–oOoOo–

She had woken up to find Harry had vanished, but Mia had her head on her lap and was brushing her hair. It wasn’t what she had expected. Still, it was pleasant to be fussed over.

“Mia? W’res Harry?” she mumbled, still a little bleary from her unintended nap.

“He went back to his room. I started his Occlumency training properly, and he got a headache.”

“Mmm…”

“Feel free to go back to sleep, Hermione. Dinner’s not for another couple of hours.”

“But, I didn’t finish making my notes…” she murmured, but quickly fell back into a drowsy haze as Mia soothingly brushed her hair.

–oOoOo–

Dinner time at Grimmauld hadn’t been something Harry had enjoyed at any point since he had arrived. Mrs Weasley’s cooking was good, the food was plentiful, but her doting and the common lack of both Hermiones had made it worrying. He’d had to take food up to them more often than not, usually to comments from Mrs Weasley about their lack of respect for her efforts cooking.

The times they were around it was so tense it was painful, but when they weren’t, the only people he felt comfortable talking with being Sirius, Tonks, and some of the friendlier order members who stayed for the food after meetings. The twins too at first, but less so recently.

Today was one of the days they were joining him at the table. It was just them, Sirius, and the Weasleys today—Bill included. He was the only Weasley Mia didn’t hate, since he had left the family after the truth about Hermione’s marriage came to light.

As Ni slipped into a seat beside him and Mia on the other—between him and Sirius—he smiled and kissed his girlfriend’s cheek with a blush. Not counting Mia, it was the first time he had kissed her in front of anyway. Even Sirius, who was whistling at them appreciatively and causing Hermione cheeks to turn adorably rosy as she glared at him.

Not everyone was appreciative, though. Ron mumbled something about Harry being a bad friend before attacking his food and ignoring them both. Mrs Weasley glared, but before she said anything she took in a deep breath and forced a smile onto her face.

“Come now, Hermione dear, why don’t you sit next to Ron? You’re both prefects—you’ll be spending a lot of time together this year.”

Mia scoffed and shot Ron a glare, but Ni was the one to set things off. “I’d rather sit next to my boyfriend, thank you.” She smiled, leaned her head against Harry’s shoulder and gripped his hand tightly.

Ron swallowed his food noisily. “You’re dating Hermione?!” he yelled, “But! You know I like—” His face flushed crimson as he grit his teeth and glared. “You’re a bad friend, Potter.”

“I’m not the one who refuses to apologise for getting my father’s heirloom confiscated—where the hell is my mirror anyway, has no one tried to get Dumbledore to give it back?” Harry glared at Molly as Sirius shrugged. “And yes, I’m dating Hermione. That was why I kissed her.” Harry shook his head and freed his hand from Ni’s to prepare his meal.

“Honestly, I expected Fred and George to say something. I told them a few days ago—and it’s not like we were hiding it or anything.” Ni mumbled as she sat up and made her own plate.

“Are you sure this is… a good idea?” Molly started wringing her hands worriedly, but her eyes sparked with anger. “We don’t know how they…” Her voice began to rise but she took a deep breath and continued evenly. “Ended up like they did. Or if it’s still permanent. It’s still dark, I say.”

Ni rolled her eyes. “Well, if I suddenly vanish on Harry, I’m sure that Hermione will be there for him. We both like him after all—he won’t be lonely.”

Harry glanced at Ni worriedly—the very idea of treating them interchangeably felt wrong. They were both Hermione, his best friend, but that didn’t mean he could just swap them if he felt like it. Not mourn losing Ni because he had Mia, or vice versa.

Ni noticed his concerned and whispered into his ear. “Just arguing with her; I know you’re not like that.”

Ron jumped up from his chair abruptly, knocking it to the floor. “So, not only do you push me away, you go and get two _girlfriends._ ” He spat as his hands clenched into fists on the table. “I’m not stupid, you just want them for… _that_. You’ve ditched me to get some. What did you promise them? To show them how you cheated to get into the Tournament?! Your piles of gold?! To share your FAME?!” He screamed, huffing and panting. He grabbed two platters of food and started striding from the room, but turned around to glare one last time. “You’re not my best mate. You’re not a mate at all. We’re through, Potter.”

Ginny, who had sat next to Ron, stared at him in shock. She followed him to try to whisper something in his ear but was shoved aside by an elbow before she got the chance.

Everyone except Mia watched him leave with a mixture of surprise and shock, but she simply watched him leave calmly then started eating.

The twins glance between each other and grinned before turning their gaze on Harry and the Hermiones. “Maybe it should’ve been them that left,” “You know, to get some _private time.”_ They chuckled lightly, but no one else joined in. “Or maybe we should follow Ron’s lead, and all leave?” “They’d get some time alone that way too!” 

Mrs Weasley turned red and stared between Harry and the Hermiones, her eyes growing wider with each passing moment. “You… That… That’s not proper! How could you, Harry! Two girls at once—That’s it, Sirius, you cannot let them do this! Look at what they’re doing to poor Harry, ruining his friendship with my little Ronald and falling into debauchery with _both of them!_ I told you it had to be dark magic! I told you and you didn’t listen to me!”

Sirius turned to the screeching Weasley Matron and stared at her incredulously. “Molly, you have _no_ right, and it is not—”

Mr Weasley shot a pained look at his wife as he tried to attract her attention, but she ignored him and continued on. “I knew she was awful from the moment Skeeter exposed her! Potioning the boy-who-lived and stringing him along while she dallied with that—that _Bulgarian!_ As if that wasn’t enough for you—”

As Ni started shaking at his side Harry sprung to his feet. “Shut up! How dare you accuse Hermione of something _You_ did!”

“Mother!” Bill cried out, but she paid no heed to her eldest son.

“ENOUGH! That is it! I’ve had enough!” Sirius bellowed as he stood. “You are _not_ in charge in this house, and I’ve had it with you disparaging the girls! Molly, you and your _brood_ are leaving! Go home!”

“You can’t! You need a proper influence for the poor boy before they corrupt him completely!” Mrs Weasley stared at Sirius, horror etched onto her face. “How can you not see that they are dark? They convinced you to keep your family’s trinkets.” A flash of revelation crossed her face and she gasps. “No, they must have—”

Sirius whipped his wand at Mrs Weasley, silencing her. A moment later her wand flew from her apron pocket to his other hand. “Arthur,” he growled, “take your _wife_ and get her out of my sight. The rest of you, pack up and _go home._ You have half an hour.”

“That’s not enough time!” Ginny shouted.

“Use your wand to pack! Or get your brothers to help! Get out!” He snarled at the youngest Weasley and she fled, with the twins following behind worriedly.

“Sirius, are you sure this is a good idea?” Arthur asked nervously as Molly strode up to Sirius.

Sirius, seeing Mrs Weasley coming, hit her with another spell freezing her in place. “She is in my house, accusing my guests—guests I owe a debt to—of crimes _she_ committed. If I want her out, she gets out. Get her out of here, Arthur.” Sirius voice continued to rumble with barely constrained anger. “I put up with her ranting, _whining_ , for weeks. _After_ she tried to poison me.”

Mr Weasley bowed his head and lifted his wife towards the Floo. “I’ll be back for… our things soon. Take care, Harry, Hermione.” With a burst of flame the Weasley parents were gone.

“Ah, Sirius… I would like to apologise for…”

“Save it, Bill. You weren’t a part of that and _she_ isn’t sorry. Go help your brothers and sister. And get Ronald to pack too. I just want the lot of you gone.”

Bill nodded and sighed. As he made his way out of the kitchen he muttered quietly about this being why he chose to work in Egypt.

Harry sat back down and enveloped his still shaking girlfriend in a hug, reassuring her that he knew Mrs Weasley was wrong. He chose to be her boyfriend, and that was _his_ choice. Not something she tricked him into. She buried her head into the crook of his neck and leaned into him.

A few moments later Mia moved over and wrapped them both up in her arms from Ni’s other side, and Ni finally stopped shaking.

“I… she’s horrible.” She whispered so that only he and Mia could hear.

“I thought they were like my family. But… how can she think that?” Harry murmured back, still in shock over Mrs Weasley’s behaviour. Arthur hadn’t even really tried to stop her either, just stood by as she _attacked_ the Hermiones. It was like she thought they were _evil_.

He didn’t have much of an appetite, but Mia coaxed them both into eating after ensuring their food was potion free—having done so to her own without him having ever noticed. There was a slow procession of Weasleys departing, beginning with Bill sending Ginny through the Floo, then the twins, and finally a protesting Ron who nearly attacked Sirius over kicking his mother out.

When they had all left the house felt strangely quiet for a while, before Mia started up a conversation with Sirius about the process of becoming an Animagus—it drew Ni in quickly and kept Harry himself enthralled. He didn’t think he was likely to do it himself, he had too much else to worry about, but it was interesting to hear a detailed explanation of what Sirius and his dad had done to help Remus.

**20th of August, 1995,  No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

“Sirius, I understand your issues with Molly, but I must ask… is it possible for her to return?” Dumbledore asked 

“She is not getting another chance to try and take over here—nor to talk to the kids in my care. I don’t care that it’s not legal, _they are mine._ ” He growled at the old man for daring to return the _harpy_ to his home.

“I do not mean like that, Sirius, she… she has burnt too many bridges for that. However, she, Arthur, and young Bill are members of the Order. I am asking that she is permitted to attend meetings, and perhaps bring food she has prepared at home _for_ the meetings.” Dumbledore smiled placatingly. “I understand your concerns about such and will not begrudge your refusal on that last.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore; he had expected more interference, the demand for the Weasleys to return. Yet Dumbledore was being almost cooperative. “The _Har_ — _She_ may come into the kitchen, but no further. Even if other members are staying the night, _she_ will not.”

Dumbledore sighed and nodded. “Very well, now Sirius might I ask—” He paused, shook his head and waved a hand. “No, it is no matter. I will ask Miss Tonks if she is amenable to spending more time here, to help act as…“ he hesitates noticeably, “a responsible party for the children. I trust this is of no concern?”

Sirius shook his head and said Tonks was welcome whenever; Little Nymmie being around more was no trouble at all. She was good for Harry. Better than he was, really. He’d seen the way he lit up when she played the big sister role—talking with Harry was something he enjoyed greatly, but his godson needed someone separate from the time-travel insanity they were wrapped up in.

He did too, really. Maybe he could convince Dumbledore to let Andromeda in on the secret; she already knew where they were for the most part.

**23rd of August, 1995,  No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

“You know, I’m almost missing Mrs Weasley right now.” Hermione said as she picked listlessly at her food. “This is… I don’t think you’re really suited to be a chef, Sirius.”

A deep chuckle escaped from the sole adult at the table. “Well, she had her uses. Shame about her choice of seasonings.”

No one laughed, for which Hermione was thankful. If any of them didn’t take it seriously it would’ve hurt.

“Do you think Tonks would mind getting us take away each night? You can afford it, right Sirius? She’s already on the accounts for our school shopping, and it would be so much better than _this.”_ Ni pushed her plate away having barely eaten half of it. 

“I can cook, you know.” Harry piped up, “I don’t really mind.”

“I think my objections to using you as a chef are losing to my distaste for this food, Harry.” Hermione sighed. “We’ll let you cook.”

He grinned, got up, and went straight to the counter. Within five minutes he had made a plate of sandwiches which was vastly more appealing than Sirius’ attempt at a Full English Breakfast. Letting him near the stove had almost been worse than her and Ni’s second attempt to use the cooking charms. She would never look at a roast chicken the same way again.

Whoever made that stuffing spell was not a good person.

**24th of August, 1995,  No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

Tonks was walking down Diagon Alley feeling a little apprehensive. She’d been given access to _three_ very full vaults at Gringotts. Three. The Potter trust vault, which had more in it than she’d ever seen in her mum and dad’s and it was just a _trust_. The Dagworth-Granger vault, which admittedly didn’t have much gold but there were a lot of potions and books.

She might have nabbed one of the books for her own reading—with Hermione’s permission, of course. Those girls wouldn’t begrudge anyone wanting to read a book.

The last vault—Sirius’ vault—had been the worst. All the named Blacks had died off and it was just Sirius left, so everything had been consolidated under his name. The goblins didn’t care about whether Wizards were fugitives or not unless they committed crimes against Gringotts. He’d even told her to grab a sack of gold for herself, which she hadn’t done.

It felt too much like a bribe, even if it wasn’t meant as one. 

As she idly ambled towards Flourish and Blotts she bumped into someone shorter than her, and rather predictably, fell over into a heap on top of them.

“Agh! Ow, wait… Susan?” Tonks recognised the red-head she had bumped into and scrambled upright quickly, offering a hand to her acquaintance. “Er, sorry, Sus’, was a bit distracted.”

Susan took Tonks’ hand and pulled herself upright. “It’s okay, Tonks. I don’t mind.” She smiled happily. “Can’t say Auntie won’t, though. Or Mum.”

Tonks paled rapidly and turned towards a coughing sound on her left. “Um. Wotcher, Boss! Fancy seeing you here?” She grinned and fought to get control of her rapidly colour-shifting hair.

“Good day, Junior Auror Tonks. I’m surprised to see you here today; didn’t you say you had family business you were working on?” Madame Bones’ stern gaze fixed Tonks in place as Susan giggled off to the side.

“Well, I do. That’s why I’m here. Doing the same thing you are, I reckon.” Tonks patted her robe’s inner pocket which jangled noisily. “Got asked to do some shoppin’ for my cousin, Harry, by his regent. His friends too, well a couple of ‘em anyway.”

“Oh, so Hermione and… wouldn’t Ron have his Mum do his shopping?” Susan asked confusedly.

“Er, well… yeah it’s Hermione.” Tonks felt a little worried. She hadn’t been briefed on the second Granger’s cover story, and the girls didn’t seem to like changing their names. Something she could relate to, if from a different angle. “And her twin sister. Who also answers to Hermione? It’s a little weird.”

“Hermione has a twin?! Aw, is she coming to Hogwarts? I’ll be even further down the rankings! Did she get prefect? I mean, Hermione—they’re both really answering to Hermione? It’ll be worse than the Weasleys or Patils… Well, maybe not the Weasleys since they don’t prank but still.” Susan paused briefly to breathe, then started rambling again. “Our Hermione—the one I know, not her twin—did she get prefect? That was what I was asking. 

“Hannah wanted to know, she had a bet with Ernie. He thought she caused too much trouble with Harry to get it. He still goes on about the heir of Slytherin stuff, and him being a cheater. He bet Harry’d get it though; favouritism.” She took another breath quickly. “Which doesn’t make sense to me; not Hermione because she gets in trouble, but Harry because he gets away with trouble? Not that he does.” She frowned as she finished talking. “He just attracts it.”

Madame Bones looked on amused while another woman, who must be Susan’s mother due to their resemblance, smiled at Susan.

Tonks, herself, was still a little nervous about bumping into her bosses boss in the middle of the alley and interrupting her family time. “Well, um. Yeah, she got prefect. Harry didn’t though, Weasley did.”

Susan made a disgusted face. “Eugh, glad I’m not prefect then. He insults us ‘puffs almost as much as the Slytherins.”

“You’re seeing Potter regularly then Tonks?” 

“Yes, boss.” Tonks replied automatically, but quickly amended as she saw the frown on Madame Bones’ face. “I mean; yes, Madame Bones.”

“Tell him I apologise for that farce of a hearing. If Shacklebolt had provided his evidence sooner I’d have had the entire thing pulled; as it is Hopkirk’s gotten a severe reprimand. The Patronus should be on a special list considering its usage.” Madame Bones turned to Susan and put her hand on Susan’s shoulder. “I’m debating asking if he would be willing to tutor Susan here, she hasn’t been doing well in Defense.”

Susan rolled her eyes; it was clearly a common topic between them.

“Susan prefers Transfiguration, Amelia. And unlike you, she doesn’t plan to join the DMLE.” Susan’s mother turned to Tonks. “Sorry for being rude, Rosanna Bones. Susan’s mother and Amelia’s sister in law.” She smiled and held out her hand, which Tonks took. “You’d be surprised how much I hear about you, Auror Tonks. Susan likes you best out of all her assigned bodyguards.”

“Muuum!” Susan whined. “She’s fun! Proudfoot’s just boring, and Shacklebolt never lets me see him! It’s creepy.”

“I’m a little surprised you’re doing the shopping for this Hermione, Tonks. You said the regent asked you to do it? I would have thought she would be shopping with her own parents.”

“Ah… they’re, um, dead, Madame Bones. They were the ones attacked by Yaxley and Goyle at the start of July…” Tonks flinched as Susan gasped. She would have preferred not to say it in front of the girl, but it wasn’t like she wouldn’t find out at some point anyway. “They’ve been taken in by the regent ‘cause they’re close to Harry. Mum’s been contacted to handle the legal stuff for ‘em, the regent trusts us for some reason.”

Madame Bones’ face turned stony and her tone shifted from the polite casual she had been using to completely formal. “If you would, Auror Tonks, you may inform Miss Granger that former Auror Yaxley has been posthumously convicted and his remaining wealth confiscated. It will be awarded to her as a victim of his attack and the ministry as is policy. Mister Goyle is still awaiting trial thanks to… interference, but if she is willing to testify—sometime in October I suspect—he’ll be in Azkaban for a few years.”

“I’ll tell her, thanks.”

“Tell her—oh! Her birthday is in September, I’ll have to get her something and tell her…” Susan trailed off and went silent, staring at the floor. “This is awful. Do you think Harry was right, Auntie?”

Madame Bones turned her head towards her niece. “I think, Susan, that it would be a good idea to practice harder for your defence OWL this year.”

Susan grimaced for a moment but quickly pressed her lips into a determined line. “I’ll talk to Hannah, too. Thank you, Tonks—it… it wasn’t nice to hear, but I prefer knowing than… than being left in the dark.” She turned a glare towards her aunt for a moment before smiling. “Be seeing you!” She grabbed her mother’s hand and dragged her towards Madame Malkin’s.

“Auror Tonks.”

“Yes Boss?”

Madame Bones narrowed her eyes. “I know you’re working with Dumbledore’s little group. Remember you’re an Auror first, but the minister isn’t listening, and my hands are tied, so I’m not going to fire you. Keep that boy safe. I’ll see you assigned to Hogsmeade patrol on the right weekends if you think it’ll help.”

“Er, thank you Madame Bones?”

“Good day, Auror.” Madame Bones hurried off after her sister-in-law and niece, leaving Tonks standing there feeling a little shocked. She was in the Order because she had to be doing something and the Aurors weren’t, but now her bosses’ boss was telling her that it was okay to be part of a vigilante group?

Tonks shook her head and started walking down the alley again. She had books to buy and some birthday presents to get for the girls. She glanced sidelong into the shops and spotted something perfect; it’d be a joint gift for both of them, but she could get something simpler for each of ‘em without breaking her own vault too much.

They were easier to shop for than Harry was at least. He didn’t have much stuff, but he also didn’t seem to care about much other than his heirlooms. She couldn’t go dredging those up as easily as some others.

**28th of August, 1995,  No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

“Hey, Hermione?” Hermione looked up at the sound of her boyfriend’s voice. She had been leaning on him comfortably while reading through her new Arithmancy book in preparation for the coming year but didn’t really mind the interruption. “Do you think we could take a break from studying until school starts?”

“Why?” She wasn’t _totally_ against the idea—she would still end up reading her books with Mia, there wasn’t really any doubt about that, but they didn’t urgently need to work on anything.

“It’s just… all we seem to do is study, practice duelling,” his face flushed red up to his ears. “and cuddle and kiss a bit.” 

She smiled and kissed his cheek then wriggled her way underneath his arm while humming. “Kiss a bit, yes.” She sighed. “I do understand, Harry. There just isn’t much _to_ do in this awful house. I would normally take a walk, go watch the stars—even play some chess with… Ron sometimes, but here? We can’t go outside, we can’t see the sky, neither of us like chess that much. We could play a few games, but wizard games are…” She tried to think of a word quickly and gave up. “Honestly they’re not very good. The pieces move, explode, or spit—” She made a face at the very idea of Gobstones; why anyone would want to play a game about being spat at she didn’t know. “—but compared to the games I play with Mum and Dad at home, or even compare to watching a bit of tele, they’re just not as interesting.”

“Oh.”

“That’s why all I do is studying; I enjoy it, and the other options don’t appeal as much. What would you like to do, Harry?” Hermione put her book down and turned around so her head was resting on his chest and she could wrap her arms around him. “More kissing?”

“Um, yes. But… why don’t we just ask Tonks to pick up a pack of cards or something? Or check your house for some of those games? It didn’t get burned down, from what Sirius told me.”

Hermione blinked. “Um. I’ll ask Mia, actually. She can get out of the house and would know where everything is. You find Sirius and Tonks and ask if they’d be up for a muggle game? Monopoly should work, I think.”

“Sure, you’ll have to explain it. I’ve never played.”

Hermione gave him another hug and kissed him lightly on the lips. She didn’t let her sadness reach her eyes; Harry’s childhood was always so _upsetting_ to hear about, but he didn’t deserve any pity. It wasn’t what he wanted.

“I’ll go get Mia; maybe you should make some snacks? I’ll clear a table when I get back.”

“Alright.” He smiled at he as she stood up, but before she could walk away he stood up and gave her another kiss. “See you in a bit.”

Hermione walked out of the room with her heart fluttering. He didn’t initiate often, and they hadn’t progressed beyond little kisses, but she knew each little step from Harry was a milestone worth celebrating.

**1st of September, 1995,  No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London**

“Are you sure I can’t come?” Sirius whined plaintively, “I’ll be Padfoot the entire time—I just, the house is going to be so _empty_.”

“What about me, ya bloody mutt?” Tonks smacked Sirius on the back. “What am I, chopped liver?”

“You’re not my godson and his wonderful little girlfriends, that’s what.” He barked back.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. She nudged Harry and gestured towards Sirius; he was the only one who had a chance to convince him not to come. She and Mia would never manage it, even with how much time they spent with him.

Harry, fortunately, took the hint. “Sirius, you _can’t._ Wormtail is against us and he knows. What if the rat told Malfoy and he casts a revealing or reversal spell on you? I don’t want to leave you behind,” Harry walked back and gave Sirius a hug. ”but I want my godfather alive _more._ ” 

Sirius grimaced as he wrapped Harry up in his arms. “Alright, alright. Got that speech from the girls, didn’t you? I’ll stay. But I don’t like it. I want to see you off from the station like a proper parental figure.”

Harry snorted with laughter. “You? A parental figure? Sirius! You’re the fun uncle at best!” He grinned grandly but the hint of wetness prickling the corner of his eyes. “I’ll miss you. I’ll get the mirror back off the Headmaster as soon as I can. We need to be able to talk.”

“I’ll miss you too. See you at Christmas at the latest, kids.”

“If we’re done with the sappy crap we can get going.” Professor Moody grumbled, “It’s Tonks, Arthur, Remus, and Diggle on guard. Potter, you’re to stick with Tonks at all times. No wandering. Remus’ outside and will be watching the girls and I’ve got your trunks.” His magical eye swept over them before spinning to look behind him. “Got all that? Good. Let’s go.”

He marched out of the room towards the entrance and they fell in behind him. Tonks looped one arm through Harry’s and led him away. Watching the two chat animatedly as they walked was kind of fun, really. Tonks never seemed to fail at brightening Harry’s mood.

Which was good since he had been moping about leaving Sirius behind for the last couple of days.

The walk to King’s Cross was a pleasant one. Just having a chance to be _outside_ for the first time in two months made it a wonderful experience. It wasn’t a morning wandering through Hampstead Heath, however. And the noise of a London morning was a little jarring after so long behind No. 12’s silencing charms.

She stuck with Mia the entire way but neither of them had much to say; she was going to change into her robes and head off to the prefect meeting and Mia would find and sit with Luna, taking Harry with her. At some point one of the staff would take Mia to be sorted on the train since the ceremony was for first years only.

It would be interesting to see what the sorting hat made of her. Hermione just hoped it wouldn’t reveal any secrets.

 –oOoOo–

Stepping through the barrier to nine and three quarters was a strange feeling for Harry. He was going to the place he considered _home_ again. Back to Hogwarts aboard the express, with the same smell of soot and the sound of whistling steam filling the air. But at the same time, he had gone through the barrier—or not in the case of his second year—with the Weasleys all four years before this. Mr Weasley was here, keeping an eye on them, but that wasn’t the same.

Moody walked up to them pushing a trolley covered in three school trunks; his and the Hermiones. “All OK, don’t think we were followed…”

“This is where I leave you; I need to get home and help Molly get the kids ready.” Mr Weasley nodded at Moody before vanishing with a pop.

“Should’ve waited and given me a report… No trouble, then?” He turned to Lupin.

“Nothing,” Lupin shook his head. “Well, look after yourself, Harry.” He clapped Harry on the shoulder. “Be careful.”

Harry couldn’t help but notice the glance and frown Lupin aimed at the Hermiones who were unloading Moody’s trolley. He wasn’t the only one looking at them, as a few students Harry recognised had stopped to stare briefly before moving on. Hermione having a twin would have gone up and down the train before they even found a compartment with how fast gossip spread.

“Yeah, keep your head down and your eyes peeled,” said Moody, shaking Harry’s hand then grabbing Mia and Ni’s in turn. “And get the ruddy mirror off of Dumbledore. Letters aren’t safe. Don’t put anything in writing you aren’t willing to go public.”

“It’s been good seeing you three so much, I’ll keep the mutt company—” Tonks yelped as her hug with Ni was interrupted by her mother stepping up behind her and clearing her throat.

“Nymphadora?”

“Mum!” Tonks’ hair flashed white as she jumped before going back to black with purple highlights. “Don’t call me that!”

“Do I need to send you through awareness training again, Auror Tonks?” The stern lady from his trial—Madame Bones—stood next to Andy, a little smile quirking at her lips. “Mister Potter, Miss… Misses Granger. My sister-in-law fell ill and so I’m escorting my niece today. She _insisted,_ ” she shot the red-head next to her a quick glare, “that I apologise to you in person.”

“Oh, I’m… it’s alright—”

“Not to you, Mister Potter, although I hope Tonks delivered my message.” At Harry’s nod she turned to the Hermiones. “I understand that one of my staff, bloody _Yaxley_ is at fault for your current situation.”

The Hermiones looked confused for a moment but it quickly changed to alarm.

“That one of my Aurors might have been subverted has been a concern of mine for many years. I can do little more than offer my condolences for your loss.” Madame Bones bowed her head then glanced at Moody. “Mad-Eye,”

“Bones,”

She nodded abruptly. “Tonks, you’re on Hogsmeade duty starting this weekend. Enjoy the student rabble from _our_ side from now on.”

Susan, who had been fidgeting rushed forward and wrapped Mia up in a hug. “I can’t believe that happened to you. It’s horrible.” She didn’t release Mia but turned her head towards Harry. “I believe you Harry, the Daily Prophet’s full of nonsense.” She let go of Mia flushed red with embarrassment. “I’d like to talk at some point Hermione, Harry, um…”

“Hermione.” Mia said with an amused smile.

“Really? I thought Tonks was joking! Um. Right, I need to find Hannah. I’ll see you three at Hogwarts!” She waved goodbye and trotted off with her aunt following behind shortly after.

“Amelia’s niece is quite energetic, isn’t she?” Andy stepped up next to Harry. “They don’t look as if they have only known each other for two months.” She smiled at Harry as he started to fidget. “I won’t pry; it isn’t my place. I came here to see you off; you’ve left with others before and had them wave goodbye to you. But they weren’t here for _just_ you, were they?” She leaned down and hugged him gently.

“I am. And so is my daughter. You have family here, Harry.” She stood back up and turned towards the Hermiones. “More importantly, it’s the family you’ve chosen that is here. Blood related or not.”

“Aunt Andy?” Harry pushes his glasses aside to brush away the wetness forming in his eyes. He was happy. He shouldn’t be crying.

“Have a good year, Harry. Learn and prepare, it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

He nodded solemnly. “I’ll… I’ll make you proud.” He met her gaze with determination. “Maybe I’ll need help, but I’ll do better this year than before. A lot better.”

“You’ve already made me proud, my dear little cousin. Now get going; your girls are waiting for you.”

Harry blushed and rushed off after Mia and Ni—his Hermiones. They had a long year ahead of them, but they wouldn’t bow down and give up. They knew what was coming, and they would win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished it before the end of September; that's something at least, right?


End file.
